


Game of Thrones One Shots

by gameofoneshots



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-16 14:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 41
Words: 38,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21272630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gameofoneshots/pseuds/gameofoneshots
Summary: One Shots of your favourites!Reader is mostly gender neutral so everyone can read it (unless stated otherwise) (all the women except for Cersei are fxf)All the relationships in the tags are in there (just scroll through the chapter index and you'll find whom you're looking for)





	1. Jon Snow: The Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Winterfell has been won back by the Starks  


“My king”, you said as Jon entered. He had been away for some time, doing the gods only knew what.  
You loved him. You always had. Ever since you had been children, you had been friends and now, you were happy to call him your husband.  
Whenever there had been a feast at Winterfell, he had been assigned to stay out of the way and you, the child of nothing more than a handmaiden, hadn’t been too welcome in the big hall either. That’s how you had met. Jon had trained outside by himself and you had watched from afar. He had intrigued you. The boy with the black curls hadn’t noticed you lurking in the shadows at first, but then he had noticed those beautiful Y/E/C eyes. They had reminded him of jewels.  
Now, you were far more than just a crowing jewel to him. No, you were his support, his rock. He loved you more than words could express. No language could ever describe your love for each other.  
“Oh, stop it”, he said and closed the door behind him.  
You smiled at him and then went back to writing your letter.  
“What are you doing?”  
You hummed to yourself. “Nothing, just writing”, you said innocently.  
“My love, doing nothing? That doesn’t sound right!” He walked over to your desk and looked over your shoulder.  
“No peeking!”  
He laughed and kissed your cheek, making you flush. After all those years, he still had that effect on you.  
“I am King in the North, I can do whatever I want.”  
You shook your head at your husband. “Not in this room, you can’t! How many times do I have to tell you that inside these walls, you are at my mercy”, you said sweetly and rose to your feet.  
You pulled him close, your fingers digging into his warm skin.  
Your faces were so close, your noses were touching. Inch by inch, you closed the distance between you. Inch by inch, you took in his smell of snow, pine cones and crushed leaves. Inch by inch, your lips got closer to his.  
You kissed him lovingly and he brought one large hand to your face, cupping your cheek. The other hand he let sit on the small of your back.  
Suddenly, the hand on your back was gone and you could feel his focus shifting away from you. You opened your eyes just to see him looking at something behind you.  
Your sneaky husband had reached behind you and grabbed your letter.  
He was holding it next to your head and even worse, he was reading it.  
You were about to protest, when you saw him give you the loveliest smile. A smile, you knew, only belonged to you.  
“I love you”, he said and kissed you deeply. “That is the sweetest letter anyone has ever written”, he breathed in and for a second, you thought he would cry.  
You had written him a letter about how much you loved him. He had told you a couple of days ago that he might have to travel south soon. You had wanted to let him know how much you loved him and that whatever he did, you would be there to show your support and just be there for him.  
So, you had decided on writing him a love letter that he could keep with him and read whenever he felt lonely or whenever he missed you.  
You would sure as seven hells miss him.  
“I love you, too”, you said and kissed him again.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I made this one gender neutral because why not let everyone have a piece of that cake  
REQUEST anything by either leaving a comment or sending me a message!


	2. Sandor Clegane: Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fem!Lannister!Reader  
TW: foul language  


You were sitting in the garden of Kingslanding. It was almost nightfall. Behind the canapés and high towers, the sun had started to set. You loved it here. You always had.  
Sure, you had been sad to leave Casterly Rock, but Kingslanding was a beautiful city rich with merchants from ever part of the world and even more, the people you loved were here.  
It hadn’t been a question. When your sister had married the king, you just had to go with her. Your brother had joined the king’s guard just to come with her, too. Maybe your father would have let you stay at the Rock but you would have missed your sister terribly.  
And now that your sister was Queen Regent, you couldn’t just leave her.  
“The Queen wants you.” The hound, Sandor Clegane had snuck up on you. He was a tall man. Tall, mysterious and often drunk.  
“Tell her that I want to stay outside for just another few moments”, you said, not even looking at him.  
You heard his armour shit and then suddenly, a large hand was on your shoulder. “She said she doesn’t want her sister to wander the gardens alone this late.”  
You sighed and finally looked into his eyes. “I’m not alone now, am I? You smiled sweetly and even stressed your point a bit further. “Surely, she won’t mind me walking around when I have the King’s loyal guard with me. The only way that I’m ever going to go inside is, if you walk with me. Just a few moments. I want to see the stars”, you said and realized that he probably thought how childish you were.  
Somehow you wondered, what he thought about you. Why were you feeling this way? You had known him for more than fifteen years. He was just a loyal guard dog. You were a highborn lady, sister of the Queen Regent, daughter of the Hand of the King, aunt to the King and the honorary heir to Casterly Rock. He was nothing to you, right?  
“Shall we go?” He remained quiet, only grunted in response. You walked and walked. Only the sound of your heels clicking and his metal armour screeching, could be heard.  
“This is rather boring for you. Tell me about yourself”, you asked a little too eagerly. “What does Sandor Clegane do?”  
“Watch over the King.”  
“And?” He really was a quiet person.  
“Aren’t you a little too old to not be fucking some lord”, he said, seemingly annoyed.  
“Aren’t you a little too ugly to be a knight?” Yes, you had the same venomous tongue as your sister. No, you didn’t think he was ugly but you were sensitive about that topic. In all truth, the only reason you weren’t married, was that your sister loved you too much. She didn’t want to give you up to someone and lose you.  
“Well, it’s good then that I’m no fucking knight.” And that was the end of that conversation. You didn’t press anything any further and he resorted to walking a few steps behind him.  
Nightfall had come and you were just passing the edges of the garden’s cliffs when you saw the most beautiful stars and pattern appear in the dark night sky.  
You ran towards the edge and held onto the castle walls.  
“They’re beautiful. I’ve never seen stars quite this bright”, you said and didn’t notice Sandor smiling at you. It was just the ghost of a smile, but it was there.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am currently reposting my old fics onto Tumblr and here on Archive but please feel free to request!! Also if you want me to continue a fic, let me know!  
This didn’t show up in the tags the frist time around so now, let’s hope that it does - for the sake of my sanity


	3. Sandor Clegane: Lightning Bolts Part 1

As soon as you had entered the inn, all eyes had been on you. You were an odd couple after all. Not that you were together in any way. You were just traveling companions. He’d get some money once you would reach your destination and you got his protection. In all truth, you Never wanted this to end. He was mean to you. He said he was annoyed and couldn’t wait for this to be over. But every once in a while you wondered whether his words spoke the truth. You noticed the way he would glance at you while sitting around the campfire. You caught him every time. And once you did, he would bark at you to not look at you and return to eating your dinner. You caught him in other ways, too. At first he had always eaten almost everything you had cooked, leaving you to chewing on just a tiny piece of food. Now, your portions were getting bigger and bigger. You had thought about bringing it up but he would just snap at you again.  
Yes you were an odd couple. He was as tall as a tree, scarred and to most he seemed as gruff as they came. You on the other side were a breath of summer rain.  
But right now, you wished you were just as mean looking as Sandor was. You were sat in the corner of the roadside inn. You had known that it might be a stupid idea to stop there but your back was covered in blisters and your bones ached for some rest. Just one night, you had begged him. One night in a real bed and you would never bother him again. You had moaned about it for days. Finally, he had given in.  
“If it gets you from laying in my ears.” He grunted as you clapped in glee.  
“It’s a wonder I haven’t gone deaf yet.”  
You regretted that now. Sandor paid no mind to anything that wasn’t the beef stew and the glass of ale in his hand. You noticed them tough. A crowded table at the opposite end of the room made you sink lower in your seat. You could see their yellow eyes gleaming at you, their cruel smiles twist and their foul teeth glisten. They weren’t even blinking as they looked you up and down.  
“You’re not eating?” How could you? Your stomach was upside down. Any food you would try to swallow would get stuck in your throat.  
“More for me then”, he said and raised your plate to his mouth. He poured your soup down his stomach, swallowing hard every time. Your eyes never left that table tough. You could only hear his throat trying to catch up with the soup running down into his mouth.  
Someone moved. Three of them had sprung to their feet. You prayed to all the Gods that they were leaving, but they had passed the door already. They were coming your way. You tried to deny it. But they were headed for your table.  
Quickly, you rose from your seat, earning a slightly raised eyebrow from Sandor. Even swifter, you placed yourself on Sandor’s lap, straddling his waist. Your eyes were locked with the men coming for you. Before Sandor could throw you off his lap and send you back on your bum, you closed the distance between him and you. You kissed him furiously, like your life depended on it, because maybe it did.  
Then, you head was sent back, flying. He had gripped you by the roots of your hair and made you look into his deep pools of brown eyes.  
“Now what in seven hells do you think you’re doing, little one!”  
Little one. You would have blushed if it hadn’t been for the seriousness of the situation. Your gaze traveled behind his body where the men had paused in their tracks. His eyes followed yours and you for a second you thought that he would still shove you off him and just leave you there.  
Instead he sent some air through his nose and returned his attention to you.  
This time he kissed you, taking you by surprise just like you had the first time around. His hands found the small of your back and pulled you deeper into him. You didn’t want this to stop. You melted into his form, his roaming hands sending little lighting bolts down your spine. Encouraging him to go on, you kissed him deeply again, giving all of you to him. This was not allowed to end, but a sly voice interrupted your perfect moment.  
“You there! Once you’ve had your fill, how about we buy you some ale and you let us have a go at your little friend”, the biggest of them said. He was still nothing compared to Sandor.  
“I think”, Sandor said slightly out of breath, “I’ll be needing my little friend for a very long time!”  
Smiling softly, you nuzzled into his chest and then, Sandor returned to pressing his lips against yours while the men stood there, watching with angry faces.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was not a request but I need more Sandor in my life and I thought maybe you do too! As you may have noticed, I like to keep my fics gender neutral so everyone can enjoy whomever they want to. I will write gender specific when asked though  
If you want me to continue a one shot, just let me know in the comments.


	4. Sandor Clegane: Lightning Bolts Part 2

It had been exactly three days since the incident at the inn and neither of you had spoken about it. When the men had left, stomping through the front door, he had simply lifted you off him and put you back on your feet. You had thought of telling him. Why was it that those three words in that particular row and order were so impossibly hard to say? Three word that could change everything. Perhaps he had waited for you to say them first. The way he had looked at you, had told you a thousand stories. He loved you? He hated you? He saw you as a child? Little one.  
Air had come out of his nostrils, he had simply shaken his head and had returned to the delights of his soup, your soup actually. Like a kicked puppy, you had sat down back at your original seat. Your eyes had never left the floor. Instead of a rosy blush that all those who had just kissed their loved one wore, you had felt the blood leave your face. You heart had been heavy and perhaps that had been what had been dragging you down, made you sink in your seat. Lower and lower.  
Not a word about it.  
It had been three days.  
Not one.  
Sandor and you were back on the road, always in motion, always moving onwards. This was stupid, you realised. Why was he not speaking to you? Well, he did speak, but not to you directly. No more than the necessary directions and barks. If it hadn’t been for the necessity of selling your horse, leading to you riding in front of him on Stranger, you wouldn’t even have known that he was truly here, you were sure of it. But, alas, you could feel the warmth of his body coming into contact with yours every so often. You didn’t dare lean back into him. He would just tense up and make things awkward.  
Sometimes, you thought you could feel his breath on your neck. As if he was breathing in before making a big speech. But that had to be an illusion. He was not a man of big words. He had told you that a million times.  
Your hands were weaved into Stranger’s mane. As your mind wandered off yet again, you couldn’t help but think about letting your fingers glide through his hair.  
But that would never be.  
Sandor would never let you and even if, you would never gather up the courage to be bold like that again. It had just been the threat of imminent danger. It had just been in the spur of the moment.  
You slightly shook your head at yourself. You couldn’t even think of the word as it would make you yearn for that moment again. Kiss. Such a simple word. How it would conjure up the wildest of your dreams, but-  
it did nobody any good to dwell on the past and things that would and never could be.  
You were ripped from your thoughts when you heard Stranger neigh loudly. And suddenly you weren’t seated in front of Sandor anymore. You were falling, you realised. You were falling of the horse.  
“Easy boy” Sandor tried to soothe him, and you were still falling. It was as if everything was only moving past you in the slowest of motions even though in reality, you knew time was moving in its daily pace.  
You could feel the air rushing through your hair as you threatened to fall onto the stone-cold ground.  
Then, a rough hand gripped you by the arm.  
And there they were again, lighting bolts. Sparks and lighting bolts everywhere. In the air you breathed, hurrying down your spin and in his touch.  
He pulled you into him, holding you tightly.  
You were back on Stranger, seated in front of Sandor. Where you belonged. In his arms.  
“You’re alright now, little one”, he said and it calmed you. Somehow you were out of breath.  
“Thank you”, you muttered.  
“That’s what I am paid to do”, he reminded you. “Protect you when you get into stupid situations. Just like at that inn”, he added.  
So, he did remember. This was it. you knew it. you had to speak about it now or remain silent and miserable about it for forever.  
“I’ll be glad when I’m rid off you and I don’t have to make a fool of myself for you. That bag of gold will buy me a comfortable cabin for journey to the Second Sons.”  
“I wanted to thank you back then”, you whispered.  
He grunted as if to end the conversation. “But”, you said and breathed in again. This was it. You were going to tell him. “I wanted you to know that – that-“  
“What is it now. Spit it out and leave me be!”  
“I am in love with you. I love you, Sandor Clegane I-“  
He interrupted you yet again. “You would be a fool to.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Soooooo, I’ll add another part soon. I don’t know how soon but there will be a part three!  
I continued this One Shot as a few Tumblr folks have asked me to. Hope you like it! If you really really like it, please consider reblogging it as my posts still don’t show up in the tags and I don’t know who can see it if it’s just floating around in the void that is my little blog


	5. Sandor Clegane: Lightning Bolts Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: violence  


A fool, was that all what you were to him? Nothing but a silly little thing that he had to watch out for? Had he not felt the static in your touch. Had he not felt the lightning bolts racing through his skin? Had you just imagined all of it? Was your love for him that one-sided?  
You could feel the air get stuck and knotted inside of your chest. You had done it, you had destroyed everything. At least you had been more or less friendly with Sandor before but now, now you had nothing. He had obviously denied you, called you a fool. There was no going back from that. You had taken the risk and it had not paid off.  
It was another blow to your pride, another dagger in your heart, when he drew his arms back. He had still been holding you after you had almost fallen off the horse. Those arms and the warmth and the security the had given you would haunt you in your dreams. His loving deep brown eyes and the way he had kissed you would only remain a fragment of the past. You would hold onto these memories until the day that death took you into his ever-loving embrace.  
Your bottom lip quivered, and you tried to stop your body from showing any sign of sorrow. After all, you didn’t want Sandor to grow even more awkward around you. From your journey together, you had learned that he was not the best at comforting and that he couldn’t stand whiny people. No, you didn’t want him to hate you even more.  
Again, you rode in silence. That damned silence. The absence of sound and words and connection. It weighed you down and made your bones grow heavy and tried.  
Thankfully, Sandor stopped Stranger after a while by a riverside. You could use a good walk to stretch your legs. For the first time since you had gotten onto his horse, he did not help you down. Normally, you would feel his strong hands on your waist as he would lift you off the warhorse. Not today. He jumped down and cracked his bones and knuckles.  
As you climbed down sheepishly, you wondered whether it would only be like this from now on. No talking, no bond in between you whatsoever. You hissed slightly when your feet hit the ground. You hadn’t expected the drop to be that high and now your feet stung from the sensation of you body weight pressing your heels into the ground too hard. At least that physical pain could replace the pain that had come from his rejection.  
You would accept his decision though, you would.  
“I’ll water him”, he said and led Stranger to the river. Alas, he did speak. You were going to just sit down and watch him as you had always done in these situations, but you realised that you needed to let it out. You needed a good cry, a good cry and a hug but you were only going to be able to get one of those.  
So, you wandered off a bit, but always remaining within eye-sight of Sandor. Not for his sake but for yours. After what had happened, you were scared that he would just decide to leave you here and ride off. If you were being honest, you wouldn’t be able to do much if he did. There was no way in seven hells that you could catch up with Stranger. If Sandor decided to ride off, you would be helpless.  
Finally, you let the tears flow. It stung, it stung deeply, knowing that there was no future where you and he would be together. He had said no. No meant no.  
For the rest of your life you were going to weep after him, you were sure of that. The wind blew through your hair as if to calm you, as if to say that the wind was here for you. You closed your eyes for a few moments, forcing the last of your tears out. You couldn’t be seen crying in front of him.  
Then, when you opened your eyes again, you saw them. Bandits were approaching Sandor and for once, he was going to be caught off guard.  
Before you knew it, your feet carried you toward them and toward him. They were not going to get to take him from you. It was as if your body moved on its own accord. The dagger that Sandor had given you as a joke drawn, you ran for them. You remembered the way his voice had roared in laughter and how he had patted the top of your head when he had given it to you for your own protection. “Even though you are more likely to hurt yourself, little one”, he had added.  
“Sandor watch out” you screamed at the top of your lungs. Hopefully, it had been loud enough. You ran and ran and then, your hand plunged the little blade into the short one’s neck. You hadn’t expected for there to be so much blood. It ran down the dead man’s body in streams. Sandor was busy with the other two, dodging their blows and trying to put an end to their lives. In fact, he was so busy that he didn’t notice another bandit approaching him from behind.  
With a roar, you pulled your weapon from the bloody neck of your first kill and leaped for the man’s back. You managed to seriously injure him, but he was still very alive. Screaming but alive.  
Nobody had ever taught you how to fight properly so, you withdrew the dagger and just jammed it into his body as many times as possible and into as many places as possible.  
“Die already”, you screamed, your hands already a dark crimson.  
A gut-wrenching scream finally announced that Sandor had managed to rid those two men off their lives. And when your victim collapsed, you ran for Sandor. Your arms flung around his neck and your legs wrapped around his body. He was alive, he was well. For a moment you paid no mind to the blood that clung to every layer of your clothing and stained your skin red. For a moment it was just you and him.  
You shouldn’t have done that. He didn’t want you to wrap your body around his. Your cheeks inflamed as you slowly removed your face from the crook of his neck and looked at him.  
“Sandor I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I-“  
You had some explaining to do but, he cut you off. His lips were pressed against your own and his arms held you close to his body. There they were again, lighting bolts. He leaned in more, into you and his kiss became deeper. You needed air, but you didn’t want to let go. You kissed him back passionately and tried to soak all of him up. You needed air. You didn’t want to let go. You needed air.  
Slowly you broke lose from the kiss and inhaled, letting your forehead come to rest against his own.  
“I will teach you how to fight properly. That was painful to watch”, he said. A shy smile crossed your lips. “But first, let me return to this”, he breathed and crashed his lips against your one more time. “Killing that man for me”, he rasped, his mouth still on yours. “You’re a fool to be in love with me.” You bit the bottom of his lip and kissed him, demanding him to shut up. He growled deeply and let his hands travel down to your waist.  
“I’ll gladly be a fool for you”, you said.  
“Aye, and I for you.”  
Lightning Bolts all over.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Heyyy, I think that this is pretty much it for this mini-series! I hope you liked it and feel free to request anything! I think I am in the mood for some Margaery stuff, but I am always open for any request and I truly mean that. The only thing I will not write is smut because I am so bad at that. Trust me, you would not want to read that. Chapeaux to anyone who can write it!


	6. Sandor Clegane: Never Let You Fall 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous: Hey was hoping I could request a fic with Sandor, like its lannister!readers nameday (in kings landing or casterly rock whichever you prefer) and she gets bored of the celebrations ect so her and Sandor escape n fluffy cuteness ensues once they’re alone 💖💖  


Tywin Lannister was a man of his word. He had promised you a big celebration for your name day and you had gotten one. There was music al around, people were dancing, and you could already smell the cooks preparing a delicious feast.  
He was a man of his word, that was true, but he was not a man who listened to what his children wanted. If it had been up to you, you would have taken your horse on a ride over the hills, always from the grim rock. No lions would dwell with you, but a loyal hound, one you were deeply in love with. Of course, your father didn’t know about that. He would have had him hanged and you, he would see past your mistakes. He had done so for Jamie and Cersei. But he would give you the greatest punishment in the world, send you away from your home and off to marry some stupid Lord.  
You watched as a new singer approached the grand table. His melodies told you a thousand stories and his voice was as clear as a crystal. Still, he could not take your mind off the man behind you. You knew he was there, you just knew. He was stood a few paces behind the table, keeping a watchful eye on the Lords and Ladies in front of him, yet, it was as if you could hear his heart beating in time with yours, as if he was holding you close to his chest just like he did when you two were alone.  
No, you hated that you were stuck here. You wanted nothing more than to get up, grab Sandor’s hand and run away with him out into the night and leave your home and your father behind you. It was your day after all, and shouldn’t you be allowed to spend your day the way you wanted to? Your heart ached to be free of these people you barely knew and to just relax into Sandor on the back of a horse.  
“Are you not enjoying the feast?” Of course, he had noticed. Your father always had been too clever.  
“Yes,” you lied, “I am just not feeling well. Today has been lovely. You have outdone yourself.” You hoped that he would mistake your boredom for weariness. You hoped that you had learned to lie the way Cersei had. You hoped that he wouldn’t see through you.  
Tywin considered for a moment and looked at you again. His face twitched in displeasure. “No, you are not a child anymore and I have not invited the great houses of Westeros for you to get sick. You will enjoy the feast.”  
He had believed you, but he just didn’t care. “Fine”, you said.  
You would just have to make it impossible for you to stay. Slowly, you rose from your seat and you made your way to the dance floor. If your plan worked out, a stupid Lord would ask you to dance and then, you could follow through.  
“What are you doing”, your father whispered, his tongue a sharp blade.  
“If all the great Lords are here, I thought about introducing myself. I do need to make a good match and ensure the family line.” If there was one thing Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock could not resist, it was the promise of a good match in marriage.  
“Nonsense, someone will introduce themselves to you.” It was quickly announced that his daughter wished to dance and just like he had promised, the head of so many young and arrogant Lords turned to your direction.  
In the end, an old Lord with many castles and a lot of gold was leading you around the dance floor. He smelled of rotten fish and perhaps it was just the stench of his body rotting away as death would soon claim him. Cersei had once advised you to marry the oldest Lord you could find as he would die soon and leave you behind to rule his lands. It had been good advice, but you could never say those holy vows of marriage when your heart belonged to another.  
As you turned and turned, you saw Sandor stare at you with a hollow gaze. His face was as stern as ever, but his eyes were sad. It was as if he was sad that you weren’t dancing with him, weren’t holding his hand. Perhaps he had realised the sadness of your shared story. The Lord kept smiling at you every time he so disgracefully stepped on your feet. Now was the time, you grew more limp in his grip, tried to imitate a dead body and then, you closed your eyes and fell to the floor.  
You were caught, but just barely. The music stopped, and the gleeful chattering of the guests died and instead there was a gasping silence. You knew the scent around you. Sandor had caught you. Even from how far away he had been moments ago, he had caught you. He would never let you fall, you knew it.  
“Clegane see her to a maester”, you heard your father say through gritted teeth. That would teach him. You had said that you were not feeling well.  
You heard him grunt in response, more felt him grunt underneath you and as soon as the thick air and the whispers disappeared, as soon as you heard the heavy doors shut, you opened your eyes.  
“You need to practise fainting, if I hadn’t watched you, you would have hit the floor and your pretty skull would have broken right open.”  
“Then I’ll make sure to only lose my conscience in your presence”, you teased.  
“I won’t always be there to catch you, little Lion”, he said but his eyes told you differently.  
“Yes”, you said and kissed the corner of his mouth, “you will.”  
He let you down and you were going to run for the stables, just like you had dreamed to do, but he caught you by the wrist, his big paw tugging at you gently.  
“No chance, your father will check on you and if he finds you and your guard gone, he will have both our heads, but mostly mine.”  
“Shame”, you said, “I like your head very much.” He gave you a little smile, a rarity, but he did gift you with those from time to time.  
“You shouldn’t be walking. If someone sees us, they might think you lied in there”, he said and lifted you into his arms again, your feet dangling over his biceps.  
“But everyone is inside the hall.”  
“Just to be sure”, he insisted. You knew better than to resists and besides, you loved the feeling of him holding you oh so closely to chis chest, love the feel of his breath upon your body and feeling safer than ever in his arms.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was supposed to be a one shot but I made the introduction very long and didn’t get to the point and now I’m too lazy to cut it. Also, wanted to finish this tonight but I have a massive migraine and that is not going to happen. My brain cannot handle the current heat


	7. Sandor Clegane: Never Let You Fall 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous: Hey was hoping I could request a fic with Sandor, like its lannister!readers nameday (in kings landing or casterly rock whichever you prefer) and she gets bored of the celebrations ect so her and Sandor escape n fluffy cuteness ensues once they’re alone 💖💖  


He carried you away to your chambers and out of the narrow hallways. The warmth of his breath hit your right above your collarbone. Going up the stairs, you buried your nails into his arms to hold on. He did not wince at the pain, instead, he laughed a little and told you not to tear his arm out. As if you had the strength to do that. It was the other way around, but you knew that despite his ferocity, he would never purposely hurt you. Somewhere deep inside his heart, he was a kind man, but it took the right person to see that.  
Sandor opened the door with a firm kick, only let you down once he was standing in front of your bed.  
“Sit down”, he said, and his gentle tone surprised you. He was never as rough with you as he was with the rest of the world, but he wasn’t a very soft man either.  
You did as he asked and sat down, your mattress dipping. With expectant eyes, you looked up to him, your love, your Sandor, the only person you actually wanted to spend your nameday with.  
“Close your eyes”, he said and again, you did as you were told. You trusted him. “And don’t move”, he added but it sounded as if he had gone further away.  
“I won’t”, you almost sung. Perhaps your day hadn’t gone to waste after all.  
You heard him shuffle something about, he was moving a lot and it sounded as if he were in every corner of your room at once. In between, it even sounded as if he had run into your chest of drawers. Surprisingly, he refrained from cursing. Not one profanity left his mouth. He must have had something truly special planned. You were never offended by his cursing, sometimes you even found it humorous in an adorable way that was just so specific to Sandor. Still, he sometimes apologised for it because you were a Lady and he thought you better than him.  
“What are you doing?” You heard something hit the floor.  
“So impatient”, he said and you could almost see him shaking his head at you disapprovingly. Whenever he did so, he always smiled a little. No teeth, no red cheeks and no laugh lines, but his lips would curl upwards at the corners of his mouth and that was enough for you.  
“Can I look”, you said and made sure to push your bottom lip forward. He should know how much it was taking you not to peek just a little.  
“Now”, he said but when you opened your eyes, his face was pressed against yours and he bit your bottom lip gently. You drew him closer and linked your arms behind his head.  
Your soft lips caught his rough ones and when his hands travelled to rest at the small of your back, you knew that you were home.  
This is where you belonged, not your chambers, not Casterly Rock, but his loving arms.  
This is where you wanted to remain for forever. Just him and you and you and him and nothing else.  
You had drawn him so close, he almost fell on top of you, but he caught himself in time. Instead, he pulled you back on top of him.  
He slowly broke your kiss and the hand that wasn’t resting on your hip came up to your cheek, wiping away a tear.  
“What’s wrong?” There was a hint of fear in his eyes. Perhaps he was worried that he had done something wrong, but it was quite the opposite.  
“Nothing”, you said and brought your hand around the one your cheek. “I’m just really happy.”  
He shut his eyes for a second. “I love you, you know that, don’t you?”  
“Of course, and I love you, too.”  
He smiled again and softly turned you around. “Dinner”, he asked and pointed at what was lying at your feet.  
He had spread one of your blankets on the cold stone floor and had put two goblets together with some food on it.  
“You told me that you wanted to sit down in some flower field and watch the sun disappear behind the hills and I knew that would never happen. I hope this can make up for it”, he said, his eyes glued to your face.  
“I love it”, you said and let your hands reach for his face again. You pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth. You didn’t care about the jewels your father had bought you, or the gown your sister had sent from the capital. This was what truly brought you joy. He truly understood you like nobody else ever would and to get to experience a love as good and as pure as yours was, was a privilege. Every second that you were allowed to express that love, was a privilege.  
“This is the best gift I have received all night. Any second that I can spend with you is a gift. Thank you, Sandor.”  
You sat down and tucked at his hand and he followed willingly. The two of you drank the night away, and soon, his heavy head was in your lap. Absentmindedly, you played with his hair. It was getting long. Perhaps you would tease him about braiding it tomorrow, but you didn’t want to disturb the calm and warm atmosphere.  
“I will ask your father for your hand”, he said and then opened his eyes. “Only if you want me to.”  
It was as if someone had finally allowed you to breathe after being underwater for your entire life.  
“Of course, I want you to. I thought you would never ask,” you said and bent down to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him deeply and with a hunger that you had never experienced, but you didn’t want to crush him and kissing was hard when your lips were frozen into a smile.  
“And I’ll give you my answer now”, you said and kissed him softly again, “Yes, I will marry you.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry that this part took so long. Wasn’t in the mood and exams and idk the fandom dying? I hope the person who requested it is still here to see it.


	8. Sandor Clegane: The Campfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: curse words and violence (Red Wedding Episode)  
Reader is traveling with Sandor like Arya was.  


You sat there, staring into the fire.  
It had been hours since you had seen the soldiers hoist your brother’s dead body onto a horse.  
These animals had taken Grey Wind’s head and put it on your brother. Their shouting was still lingering in your ears. “The King in the North, the King in the North”, they had mocked him. Stark banners had been torn, burnt and sullied with dark red blood. Your bannermen had been slaughtered mere meters away from you.  
You had screamed. A deep guttural sound had left your body and you had tried to get to them. You had taken a knife off Sandor and had tried to save someone, just one. You had just wanted to save one man. Just one.  
Sandor had held you back.  
“Don’t be stupid”, he had said and wrapped a strong arm around your waist. You could hear the Frey men killing more, you could hear them slice another man’s throat open. They had killed and killed. Each time you heard a blade connecting with a body, you had felt like someone had stabbed you in the gut.  
Sandor had made you turn around so you couldn’t look at the slaughter anymore. You had thrashed in his arms, kicked and punched him in the chest and then you had just stopped. There hadn’t been any fight left in you anymore. As soon as your anger had left your body without any energy, a deep sadness had washed over you. Oh, and how had you started to sob. At first it had just been a whimper, then a few years had left your eyes and finally, you were screaming again, your eyes nothing but waterfalls.  
“You’re alright now, little wolf. I won’t let them harm you. Someone tries and lays a finger on you, I’ll kill him”, he had said and awkwardly patted your back.  
Normally, you minded your boundaries with him. Never got too close, but that was all gone.  
You had cling onto his chest and not let go.  
You had made camp.  
“You need to rest”, he had said and so, he had built a small fire to keep you warm. For the first time during your journey together, he had made a fire. He had always thrown a fit when you had wanted one before. Today, you hadn’t even asked but he had made one anyway.  
“You need to sleep, little wolf”, he said.  
You shook your head. “Can’t”, you simply replied.  
“Why the fuck is that?”  
“Because I’m afraid I’ll see them again.”  
He rose from his place far away from you. You knew he was trying to stay clear of the burning logs. “Your family?”  
You shook your head up and down and felt tears threatening to fall again.  
He sat down next to you, not saying a word, but pulling you a little closer to him.  
It was awkward at first, but then, you decided that you had nothing left to lose and could show your love for him maybe just a bit. So, you let your head fall onto his side and to your surprise, he didn’t move away or told you to go fuck yourself, but laid his arm around you, coming to rest at your waist.


	9. Sandor Clegane: Live for Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> saw that there was a need for some Sandor Angst with a Lannister Reader and I was bored.  
TW: blood, cursing  
SPOILERS-ISH FOR SEASON 8

“Don’t go!” Your nails were slicing into his leather armour. “Please!”  
“I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life”, he grunted. Sandor tried to pry your hands away from him, but you would not let go. You couldn’t let go of him because as soon as you did, he would swing himself onto his horse and leave you. He would die, you knew it. Gregor was going to kill him. He was going to take the love of your life from you. He would turn your heart into stone and your happy memories would forever be tinted with the sad truth that you had not been enough to keep in this life.  
There was no way in seven hells that you were going to let that happen, so, you clung onto him for dear life. For his life.  
“It’s all I care about. All that keeps me going”, he said. You knew that these words were meant to hurt you. He was trying to get you from sobbing into his chest.  
“Liar”, you cried. “You absolute liar. He is going to die, you know that, I know that. Let him die serving my cunt sister. Let him die as the Dragon Queen lays waste to that shit city.” Your sister was going to die soon. If the Dragon Queen wasn’t going to kill her, you were sure that the youngest Stark was going to put a dagger into her heart. Maybe her heart would shatter into a thousand pieces, too. The Night King had just been as cold as she was. And Arya had sent him flying into a million pieces.  
Years ago, when you had still been living in Kingslanding, when the Sept of Baelor had still been standing proudly and the Blackwater hadn’t burned a certain lime green colour yet, you had believed in the good of everyone. Cersei had once called you the weakest Lannister. What she had failed to recognise, was that your weakness, your big heart, had helped you survive. You were a different person. Perhaps there wasn’t something good in everyone after all. Back then you had seen who Cersei had truly been but your love for your family had outweighed reason. Now, you couldn’t care less about what was going to happen to Cersei or Jamie. Stupid cunt, he had left the woman who had loved him with all his flaws. He had become a better person because of her. He had left her.  
And Sandor was about to make the same mistake. The only difference was that you were a Lannister. How many times had he saved you? How many times had he told you that he would never hurt you? It was your turn now, even if the person you had to save him from, was himself. You knew him too well. He would regret leaving you, hurting you. Maybe not at first, maybe it would be his last thought. You were not going to let that happen.  
“Don’t go”, you repeated and tried to kiss him through your tears. They ran down your face in constant streams. Those pearls of water gathered at your chin and you could feel your neck becoming wetter and wetter with every second that passed. Shaking, you got onto the tip of your toes and tried to place a sloppy kiss onto his lips, but he titled his face to the side, exposing the scared side to you.  
“You think I am going to let you leave”, you said trying to get some air into your lungs, “after all we have been through? After all the promises you have made to me? After all the promises I have given to you? I am not letting you do this to me. To yourself.”  
“I don’t need your permission”, he barked. “You Lannisters are all the same. You think you can always get what you want! That the world revolves around you! I am leaving!” Then, just like that you were sent flying to the ground. As you hit the cold mud, your hands caught you and you could feel stones cutting into the palms of your hands. Your blood sang as it rushed to the fresh cuts. Slowly, you turned your hands around and saw that the first gushes of red were already running down your hands. In the cold night it provided you with the only warmth after Sandor had pushed you away.  
Then, you just let it all out. The wounds that stung, the family you had lost, the fact that you were alone and the frustration at having failed to keep Sandor from dying. It rocked through your body and forced sobs and cries from your throat. Were you screaming? You wouldn’t have been able to tell. After that first wave of pain, a familiar numbness and emptiness filled you. He was going to die. You would never going to see him again.  
Ever so softly, you led your reddened eyes travel up his body until they found his own pools of brown.  
“I thought that I could be enough”, you whispered. Farewell. I love you. Those would have been better ways of sending him off, but you could not bring yourself to pretend to be alright.  
His gulp was audible. “You were.”  
“But not anymore”, you said, massaging your palm to draw the blood from the gush. Normally, your voice was colourful, rich in volume and as lovely as a song. That was lost now. The loss of the love of your life would take that to the grave with him. “Why can’t I be enough”, you asked. “Not to my father, my sister, my brother and not to you. I am never enough.” You were staring at him now. He deserved to feel the pain in your eyes. If he was going to hurt you like this, he deserved to share some of it.  
“You are enough”, he said.  
“But?”  
“I need to do this.” His eyes had left you and were travelling towards the gates of Winterfell.  
With a hitching breath, you pushed yourself to your feet again. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to have your happy ending. It couldn’t end like this. Every step hurt but still, you closed the distance between you and him. Softly, you cupped his cheek. The cut on the palm of your hand pulsating against his skin.  
“Live for me. Live for me, Sandor Clegane.”


	10. Sandor Clegane: Two Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: I’m bad at requesting things but could I ask for Sandor fluff, like them cuddling after a battle ect idk ❤❤  
Warnings: none  


He stormed into your chambers and he was fire and fury. It wasn’t that easy. He couldn’t just leave the things he had done and seen at the threshold. The first thing you noticed was the blood that clung to his armour. It spread across his body in patterns from the tips of his metal gloves to the scruff oh his neck. He had pushed aside the desk and chest of drawers you had barred against the doors of your chamber in case the battle was lost.  
The screams and stench coming from below had haunted your soul and sent shivers right through your bones. It was wrong to do so, but you had prayed that Sandor would live more than anyone.  
“Anyone but him”, you had repeated for the hours that the battle had taken place. “Anyone but him.”  
You should have prayed for all the men’s lives, but you didn’t care for them, not in the way you cared for Sandor. When his heavy knocks against your doors had ripped you from your prayers and his voice had called for you to open the door, you had almost cried tears of joy. Your Sandor was back. He was back!  
Carefully, you placed a hand to the scarred side of his face and let your thumb run across the bumps.  
“You won”, you said. “My great warrior.”  
“Not a warrior”, he replied but melted into your touch anyway. A cold metal hand enveloped the hand on his cheek and tried to mimic your action. The sharpness of the metal stung but you were careful not to flinch. Moments like these were rare with Sandor.  
Then, you pulled at his arm and led him towards your bed. You pushed him to sit down on it and started removing his armour for him. You crawled behind him for better access, stirring up your bed sheets. He had to be exhausted. Layer after layer came off, and with it the blood of people that were nothing but bodies now. It was as if with each piece of metal you removed, a little bit of weight was lifted off his heart.  
You continued to free him of his armour until he was left with his breeches and a linen shirt. Blushing, you hesitated at the shirt, but he pulled it over his head on his own accord. Softly, you pulled him back into your body and scooted so far back until his whole body could come to rest on the soft mattress. His head was on your chest, eyes closed and taking slow breaths. You rubbed soothing circles into his palms and chest. His chest was heavy against you, but you didn’t mind. He was safe, and he was with you. You lay like this for a while, no words spoken, just his breathing and yours.  
From outside the window you could hear the cheers and laughs of soldiers drinking to their victory. He had fought bravely. He had probably done more for this victory than fifteen men combined.  
“You should be out there with them”, you said quietly.  
“No”, he said, sighing, “I am right where I should be.” As if to emphasise his point, he curled into you even more. “This is what I fought for after all.” A smile ghosted your lips. He had fought for you. Not for the sake of his men or the protection of the castle, just for you.  
You draped your arms around his body and let your legs tangle in between his. As you did so, he pulled you in closer and placed a kiss atop your head. Then, he reached behind you and pulled your blanket over the both of you.  
“Sandor, I can’t sleep like this. I am still wearing my court attire”, you whispered shyly.  
He gave you a tired smile but released you from his grip. “We can change that.” Slowly but steadily you could feel him untie your garments and pull you out of them until you were left with the minimum. Were he in a different moody, this evening would have looked very different. However, he just pulled you close again and breathed in your scent.  
He needed your touch and your soothing words. You had no idea of the horrors he had faced outside the walls of your chambers, but you were going to try to make him forget.  
Your head was resting against his chest as you drew circles all over his body. With every passing second, you could feel him relax a little more and release the tension from his body.  
“As long as you’re in my arms, you are going to be safe”, you said and thought that you might have sounded a bit silly. He was the one with a sword and not you, but you meant it. Your arms were always going to be there to catch him when he fell and when he needed comfort.  
In response, he kissed you chastely and then let his head rest on top of yours.  
You were so close to him now, you could hear his own heartbeat. Perhaps it was your imagination, but you could have sworn that your own heart tried to match Sandor’s. Two hearts desperate to beat as one.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you like it anon! I didn’t know which battle you wanted this for, so I left it very open for imagination. The same goes for the gender and the House of the Reader.


	11. Sandor Clegane: Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: Could you do a Sandor fic where he’s in charge of the baby for the day and its all fluffy ? Thanks  
Warning: swearing  
Y/D/N = your daughter’s name  


Why did you have to leave him alone with the babe? Couldn’t you just stay with him? He gritted his teeth. Oh, how he missed you. He could still see you from where he was standing outside of your hut. Only until nightfall. He only had to take care of another little, helpless and defenceless human being for the day. He looked up into the sun. It was still clinging to hills in the east. This was going to be a long day.  
He had pretended to be more annoyed at having to take care of your babe on his own than anything at all. In all truth, he was scared. He knew nothing of babes! They were so tiny and soft, everything he was not. When he had first held Y/D/N, he had been so afraid of dropping her and breaking her. That feeling had not passed. Not at all. She was the most important thing in his life next to you and he would never be able to forgive himself if anything happened to you.  
But you had gone ahead and left him in charge of your child anyways. All throughout the first months, you had to reassure him that she wouldn’t shatter into tiny pieces at his touch.  
“You are a wonderful father”, you had told him repeatedly.  
“How would you know”, he had rasped, his Adam’s apple almost getting stuck in his throat.  
“Because if you worry this much and care this much, you cannot be anything but.”  
For now, your daughter was sleeping in his arms. He sat down with her face buried into his chest. She was a babe, but she still needed to breathe in some fresh air and get a few strokes of sunlight, he decided. Sandor didn’t know what exactly it was that babies needed, but he figured that it couldn’t hurt them to be outside for a while.  
With your daughter in his arms, he watched as the sun rose high until it stood hot and proud. He would have liked to stay like that for a little longer, but she woke up screaming.  
“Shhh”, he tried bouncing her up and down. “I know I’m not Y/N. I know, I wish Y/N was here, too.” He went through all the options he had and that you had explained to him. Eventually, your daughter was soothed, and he could carry on with his duties.  
Sandor went out the back after placing your daughter into her little bed inside and then went and split the wooden logs. The days were getting shorter and he did not want either of you to freeze to death. He hadn’t even closed the door and your daughter was screaming her lungs out. Wincing at the sound, he marched back inside and instead bounced your daughter up and down his leg. She was bored, he figured.  
He never got around to doing his duties around the house. How you managed to get anything done was a marvel to him. Instead, he was busy with taking care of your child all day. He talked to her, telling her stories his old man had told him when he had been little. A long time ago he had said that those stories were untrue that those who believed in them were stupid cunts. For his daughter’s sake, he was willing to believe in them. For her, he wanted them to be true. He wanted her to live in a pretty story, safe and out of harm’s way. God’s have mercy on any poor idiot who would try to hurt his family.  
You weren’t surprised to find your husband tired when you got home. More than tired actually, he was sprawled across the rocking chair that was too small to fit his frame, one arm keeping your child safely on his chest and the other hanging down lazily. He was snoring, and you were stunned that the babe didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, they were snoring in an echo of each other.  
You bit your bottom lip and then placed a blanket over the both of them, gently stroking the top of your child’s head.  
“I love you”, you told your husband and placed a soft kiss on top of his head.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have never written anything like this, so anon, I hope you like it or at least mildly enjoyed it. I was going to leave the baby without a gender at first, as I always do, but I realised how unnatural the fic sounded. So, congratulations, it’s a girl!  
Also: the title is so original!!! I am so creative!!!


	12. Sandor Clegane: Together or Not at All 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS FOR SEASON 8 EPISODE 5 THE BELLS AHEAD! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
> 
> anon requested: Hello! Love your writings! Could you possibly write something for a Sandor x reader story where they both take on The Mountain together in kings landing, and the reader gets injured trying to help him? But of course they end up killing the mountain and lots of healing fluffyness later on?
> 
> Warnings: violence, blood, cursing (I promise that there will be fluff) and warning: I haven’t re-watched it yet because it’s just too painful so my Cleganebowl itself might not match the actual one.

“Together or not at all”, you had told him back in Winterfell. You would face his brother together, or he would have to make new plans.  
That is how you had wound up in Kingslanding, just as the sky turned orange and the air turned into fire. All hells were bracing lose and you were heading right into it. People pushed each other out the way, screamed for mercy and you wanted to help them, you did, but you needed to be there for Sandor. He was scared. He wouldn’t admit it, but you could see the fear flicker through his eyes every time that dragon screeched. The fire, this city, his brother.  
Still, you pushed through to the Keep, just in time to see its walls crumble and fall. It had never fallen before, not like this. When dragons had ruled the Seven Kingdoms, nothing had made these red stones fall apart. Now, that a dragon was trying to reclaim them, those very walls bended to her will and shattered into dust.  
You were saying goodbye to the little wolf. Sandor had convinced her to go and live on, to not become what he was. You truly wished that he would see that it wasn’t too late for him either, but there was no use in trying. His mind was set and the only thing you could do now, was to be there for him.  
“Take care of him”, Arya told you as you kissed the top of her head. These two. They wouldn’t admit it, not if someone held a knife to their throats, but they were fond of each other.  
“Are you coming”, Sandor grunted. It was time. The next minutes would define your future.  
“Goodbye little wolf.” You turned on the heel of you boot and ran after Sandor. “I’m going to miss her”, you said under your breath.  
“You don’t have to do this.”  
“Yes I do”, you hissed, “We are one. And if you need to do this, then so do I.” His eyes closed in pain of the reality that you would both be meeting your end here. He brought a hand to the back of your head and lifted your face to his. Ever so slowly, he kissed you. That kiss was like none of the ones he had given you before. It was as if he was pouring all of his love into that one kiss, as if he was trying to imprint the feel of your lips on his into his brain, as if he needed to remember every detail of it for the after life.  
When he pulled back again, he gazed into your eyes one last time. “At least I’ll die a happy man.”  
You were going to say something to him, confess your love one last time, but there he was. Gregor Clegane. He was nothing but a ghost of what he had used to be. His eyes were hidden behind a large helmet, but you could feel them burning Sandor alive.  
Your hand was already reaching for your sword. You weren’t ready, not for the fight that was bound to happen, for Sandor to die and for your live to be over. In a way, that uplifted you. You had something to live for. Gregor did not. And if Sandor had truly ever loved you, he wouldn’t just be fighting for himself and the pain that his older brother had caused, but also for you.  
You hadn’t realised just how little humanity was left in the Mountain, until he had smashed the Queen’s master into to walls like he had been nothing but a fly. Even the Queen couldn’t command him anymore and, in the end, she left the scene.  
They charged at each other like mad men, like their bodies were filled with nothing but rage. They slammed their sword into each other and cut through the air with abominable force. Gregor was good. But he was alone. He was just one person. He had nobody. Sandor had you.  
You cut into him multiple times, handling your blade swiftly and lightly. Gregor backed Sandor into a wall and you were terrified. Now, it was you who turned mad. You stabbed into his back furiously. All you wanted, was to get him off Sandor. He was not allowed to hurt him. He was not allowed to kill him. With a leap of your foot you managed to slice right into his head.  
It had worked. There was surely no way he could survive that. And he staggered back. Sandor was released from his grip and coughed violently. Coughing was good. Coughing meant that he was alive. You were about to flash him a smile, jump into his arms and take him away from this horrid place, when you felt a big hand on your shoulder.  
Gregor was walking towards you, your dagger still sticking out the back of his head, tiny droplets of black running down his pale neck. You had not killed him. He was still very much alive.  
Then, you were sent flying into the tower walls. Right next to you, where there had once stood a strong wall, was nothing now. You could see the burning city, fire raging through it, underneath you. The pressure on your arm tightened and you heard something snap. Shocked with the pain washing through your body, you let go of your sword. It hit the ground with a shatter and then you were screaming. You realised what he was doing. He was going to break every bone in your body.  
Your eyes wandered to find Sandor. You had never seen him in such pain. He struggled to get up again, to come to your rescue but his legs would not allow it. A burning heat was induced to your body when he crushed your shoulder like it was a grape. Again, you cried out, begged for him to stop, but Gregor smiled. He was enjoying this.  
His hands travelled to your neck. He was going to end you, maybe just break your jaw. You shut your eyes tight, waiting for the impact of his force, waiting to shatter underneath his blows. But that impact never came.  
“Fucking die”, Sandor roared, and you opened your eyes just in time to see him charge at his brother from behind, putting your sword through his back and pushing him out of the tower. Your gaze followed his massive body. A small smile tried to cross your lips at the justice of a giant cloud of fire enveloped him, but your mouth turned into a scowl.  
You were in so much pain, you weer going to throw up. It had hurt like hell before, but now, it was unbearable. Heavy sobs rippled through your body as you collapsed to the floor.  
Sandor had just been standing next to you, drinking in his victory, when his eyes found yours. You couldn’t even see clearly anymore. Your vision had turned white from all the pain.  
“I’ve got you”, he said, panic in his voice. Then, he lifted you into his arms and carried you out the castle. Every so often you would scream again. It was torture to him and you were trying to suppress your cries, but it was no use.  
“Kill me”, you begged him. “Please, if you’ve ever loved me, kill me.”  
“No”, he said grinding his teeth, “like you said, together or not at all.” He raced you out of the burning city, holding you against him tightly, caressing your cheek and kissing you softly to ease the pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have decided to split this into two parts, so, look out for the second part. I will probably upload it tonight – if I have the energy – or tomorrow.  
I swear that I write for other characters. I just get mainly Sandor requests. Not that I’m complaining, I love that man. I hereby swear that the next fic I’ll upload won’t be Sandor. (Don’t worry though, my dear Sandor-stans, I have two more request for him in my ask box.)  
Which brings me to my next point: feel free to request anything you like. The only thing I will not write is smut because I suck at that and you wouldn’t want to read it, trust me on this.


	13. Sandor Clegane: Together or Not at all 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: cursing, mentions of slightly suicidal thoughts? A bit of angst at the beginning but I swear that it’ll be fluffy. (Sorry, I just get a kick out of writing angst. Much more entertaining for me)  


He hurried you through the streets, every step he took rippled through your body and made your muscles cramps. This was what hell felt like. You had closed your eyes. Keeping them open had been so exhausting and your lids were heavy, oh so heavy. You just needed to close them for a second. Just one.  
“Don’t you dare”, Sandor screamed and shook you violently. He had not tired to be gentle and the force of his hands shaking you caused you to cry out. “Don’t you dare die on me.”  
Your head dipped back in agony. You just wanted it to stop, all of it. the ringing in your ears, the way you could hear the sound of drums and the pain. It was as if all the fires of the city had bundled up together in your torso and shoulder. You weren’t going to die. You knew that. Your body was broken in every way and it would take a long time, many sleepless nights and more tears than the Narrow Sea held, but you were going to live. Right now, you wished that Sandor’s fears were justified. Just on blow, just one tiny cut across your throat and you would be relieved from your pain. That was all it would take.  
He kept screaming your name as he left the city behind you and hurried you onto a horse. You wanted to tell him that you were going to be alright, that you were fine, but your mouth only twitched. Perhaps it was for the best. You could never lie to Sandor. Still, in your pain, you needed to do something in order to calm him down. His screaming and cursing were like a thousand daggers to your heart. So, you simply lifted your hand to cup one of his cheeks. It had taken you all the strength you had left in your body and you couldn’t quite make out what his skin felt like. There was no prickling sensation, no ghost of a touch. You were cupping his face, you were sure of it, but you couldn’t feel his skin against yours.  
With a sigh, you let your hand drop down next to you. Your head fell backwards, and you finally gave up the fight, let sleep claim you.  
It had been exactly three weeks since you had begged for a quick death, since you had screamed for mercy and neither of the Clegane brothers had granted it to you. The first few days had been rough, you had awoken multiple times and in so much agony, you had thought about slitting your own throat. But in order to do that, you would have to get up and that was impossible.  
You awoke coughing a little. The dust clung to the room just like blood had clung to you that horrible day. Once you were better, you would have to air the room out, but hopefully, you would then not still be living here. It had been nice of the Stark sisters to give you and Sandor some chambers and have their own maester be at your service. One day, you would repay that kindness.  
Sandor was just were he had been, when you had slipped back into sleep. In all honesty, the past weeks had blurred together into a mix of screaming, sleeping, seeing the master and waking up to Sandor sleeping in the rocking chair next to the bed.  
His blinked a few times before leaning forwards to plant a soft kiss on your forehead.  
“Good morning”, you smiled. Your position was a bit uncomfortable, but you held back a soft moan. There was no reason to upset Sandor. “Sorry that I woke you up.”  
“That’s what I’m here for, playing wet nurse to you.” He groaned as he stood up from the chair and arched his back out.  
“You should really be sleeping in a normal bed. It’s not good for you or your wounds”, you said sincerely. He was currently refusing to sleep in your bed, insisting that you needed all the space to heal properly and that he was not a good sleeper, he might kick you over the course of the night. And that was the last thing he wanted. You had quietly offered him to sleep in another room, so he could get some proper rest, but he had refused that, too.  
“No, I did this to you and now, I’m going to make damn sure that you heal.”  
You had shaken your head at that. “Gregor did this, and without you, he would have killed me.”  
“Wrong again,” he had said and kissed you lightly, “without me, you would have never been there, and he would have never touched you.” You had argued back and forth the whole night but in the end, he had stood his ground.  
“What are you going to do? Fight me?” You had sniffed at that, dragging your bottom lip outwards. It was true, you were a sore loser.  
He laughed at that. “Quit pouting and go to sleep.” You hadn’t stayed angry with him for a long time. He had meant well after all. There hadn’t been a day where he hadn’t sat at your bedside and cared for you, feeding you the horrible broth that the master brought in daily and making sure you were warm enough.  
After the maester had come in and declared that in a fortnight, you would be able to not only leave your bed again, but also to perhaps go on a ride, your sprits were lifted instantly. You could already feel the wind blowing through your hair, nipping at the back of your head and the fresh smell of grass consuming your lungs. The prospect was wonderful, but then a dark shadow crept over those images of sun and a blooming spring.  
What were you going to do after you were healed? Yes, you wanted to leave this room, but what were you going to do? Would Sandor come with you?  
A thud interrupted your thoughts as Sandor closed the door behind the maester.  
He looked at you, wrinkles of worry all over your face and began to laugh. A sweet deep rumble filled the room.  
“You’re the only person in Westeros who can worry after they’ve just been told some good fucking news.”  
You sighed deeply, “I’m just worried. I mean, what are we going to do after I’m healed? Will there even be a we?”  
You felt the bed indent on your right side and as he grabbed your hand a bit too roughly he spoke softly, “Well, I think so. Do you think I could ever part with you? After what you have done for me?”  
“No”, you said, blushing.  
“See, I’m not going anywhere. Like you said, together or not at all.” He kissed the back of your hand, his soft lips and his scratchy beard sending different sensations through your body. He was just like that in a way, soft and hard, but you loved both sides of him.  
“And for where we’re going, I have an idea. How about we ride out into the country, chose the place we like best and build a home there? No cunt lords, no brothers, nothing that can harm us. Just you and me?” He kept rambling on, but his eyes were glued to the floor and he sounded a bit shy. It was as if he was afraid to ask whether you would want that life, want a life with him and just him.  
“Yes”, you said, “of course I want to, but on one condition.” You bit your lip as he looked at you, completely puzzled. “You stop sleeping in that horrid old chair and sleep in the bed, with me.”  
He was about to protest, but you put your finger on his lips. “Sandor love”, you said, “together or not at all.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope this is fluffy enough. As you might be able to tell, I’m not really good at cute moments and nice things. Give me blood and murder and I’ll make something of it.  
And at the requester: if this isn’t what you wanted, I could re-write it.


	14. Sandor Clegane: Together Or Not At All 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there was such a great response to this little fic duology, and you guys seemed to love it and I need to practise writing fluff since I really struggle with it, I thought I would write a short little epilogue in between my classes. 

The wounds still stung your flesh as you rode down the deep green hills. It was strange to see Sandor ride another horse. Stranger and he had been inseparable, and it had never occurred to you that one might exist without the other.  
Things changed, you supposed.  
He rode right next to you, making sure you were fine with riding this far.  
“It’s alright, I swear”, you told him for the hundredth time. It was sweet really, but he was staring to get on your nerves. You were just dragging a few logs back to your house, or at least its foundations. He needed the two horses for their strength and your horse would not do it unless you guided it. He had been hesitant to ask you to come along, had said he would just take the same way twice, that you needed to heal.  
But you were not that hurt anymore. Gregor had left his marks on you and some of them would never go. Sandor hadn’t gotten off lightly either, but you were both alright. That’s was what counted.  
The wind rippled through your hair, pulling strands lose just to wrap them tightly against another place. You rounded up the hill and you could already picture your home, safe, warm, and away from the chaos that was Westeros. Just him and you and you and him. Nothing to disturb you and nobody to take you away from each other.  
Dark but calming pines concealed the place you would call home. In your mind you could see a smoking chimney and you could feel the warmth of the house prickle against your skin. So many things in your life had felt wrong. So many things had not gone the way you had wanted them to.  
Sandor was not one of them. Of course, you hadn’t planned on Gregor crushing a side of your body, but you had also not planned on surviving, on ever kissing Sandor again and you had certainly not ever dreamed of living a happy life. You were happy. You hadn’t known that that sensation existed in Westeros with chaos, bloodshed, and betrayal tearing the country apart left and right, but yet, you had found happiness. You had never intended to and neither had he.  
Sometimes you doubted yourself, thought that perhaps you were holding him back, that he’d rather be somewhere else, but then, you would look up and see a smile on his face.  
It wasn’t a big grin, nothing of that boyish cheekiness. It was soft and subtle. He smiled in his sleep, too. Whenever you awoke during the night, you felt his arms around you, half of his face buried safely in the crook of your neck and you felt him smile against your skin.  
He was happy and so were you.  
Of course, the pain of the past remained but you knew that together, you would be able to heal in time.  
You let your horses come to a halt and he dismounted quickly, coming to your aid so you didn’t have to struggle. He lifted you from the light brown mare and carried you over the threshold. Your little hut wasn’t much, yet. The doorframe stood, so did the outer walls and the roof only had a few holes. Inside was only the bare minimum of furniture, but it would suffice for now.  
In time, you would make it into more of a home, maybe expand it and maybe build more beds. Only time would be able to tell.  
He carried you inside. “I am very capable of walking”, you laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder.  
“I know”, he said with a hint of glee in his eyes, “But now that I’m here, you don’t have to.” Your legs wrapped around his middle and you planted a kiss on the top of his head, being taller than him for once. You felt him melt underneath you, feel him lean into the touch of your lips.  
Then, he lowered your body down to his, letting you come to a rest so that your faces aligned. He softly put his hand at the back of your head and brought his lips to yours.  
“I love you”, he said once he parted from your lips.  
“Oh”, you sighed quietly, “I love you, too.”  
Very abruptly, he placed you on your feet and left the house.  
“What are you doing”, you yelled after him, laughing.  
“Someone has to chop the wood and you’re not doing it”, he replied.  
Still laughing, you followed him outside. You were not able to help him, but you could keep him company. Sometimes he would send you back into the house or to paint some wood when you were watching him. You distracted him too much, he would argue.  
So, you sat down in the grass, watching him split logs in half, one after the other, and when he looked at you would still blush like you had on your first day.  
You were in in this together, in this live full of ups and down. And as long as he was willing, so would you be. Together or not at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: heyyyyy, I finally managed to write some fluff without putting angst in there! I hope you liked this little fic and that I decided to expand the duology with a nice happy ending.  
Also, again, feel free to send me some requests.  
Another question to anyone who would like to answer it: Do my long descriptions bother you? I am not really good at keeping them short and putting a lot of dialogue in there


	15. Sandor Clegane: Right Here, Right Next To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: Hi, can you do a Sandor Clegane fic? Forbidden romance between a stark and Sandor? 

“There you are“, you said and pulled Sandor into you. He had just rounded a corner of the Keep. His hands instantly went to wrap around your waist and pull you closer into him. His metal breastplate was cold against your skin, but your heart was full of warmth.  
“If someone sees us”, he said but he didn’t sound too worried. All that mattered was that you were with him.  
You were a Stark of Winterfell, a child of ice and snow, a wolf and he was a hound. You were perfect for each other, but your father did not see it that way. He had once asked you if you were in love after you hadn’t stopped humming and swaying around your chambers and stupid you, you had told him the truth, not all of it, but enough to cause some damage. You had told him that you were in love with an honest man, someone who could protect you and someone who would never hurt you. All control had slipped your poor father’s face as you had given him his name.  
“Sandor Clegane.” The answer had been simple.  
“No.” You had out up a fight, told him that he couldn’t decide who you loved and who you would give your heart to, but he had continued to shake his head, looking almost disappointed.  
A few days later you had admitted to Ned Stark that it had just been a silly little crush, nothing to worry himself about. You were fine, you had sworn to him. Sandor Clegane, the Hound, meant nothing to you anymore.  
From an early age on, you had learned how to lie without your ears glowing red, without quickening your treacherous heartbeat and without bilking. In truth, you loved Sandor Clegane.  
And the fact that your father disapproved, that it was forbidden for you to love him, just made you want him even more. Every second of every day, you spent thinking about him, his touch, his lips, his skin and the way he would look at you. His gaze would almost always drop at first and a shy smile would spread across his lips. Then, his eyes would land upon your lips and finally, they would travel north to meet your own. Those pools of brown never failed to melt your heart and set lose a thousand butterflies in your stomach.  
He was looking at you like that right now as his strong arms snaked around you even tighter. Sandor pulled you towards his body, and your legs wrapped around him instantly. You were standing outside his chambers and as he opened the door to that sacred land of privacy, he smiled and let your forehead rest against his.  
“I missed you”, you said as he sat you down on his bed. He was kneeling in front of you, running his hands along the lines on the palm of your hand. Each touch sent shivers down your side.  
“We only spoke yesterday”, he rasped quietly. Sure, you had seen him around court yesterday but the only thing he had said to you was your name.  
“I wish we could see each other more often”, you said in a hushed voice. The secrecy of your love certainly gave it some excitement but as the days went on, days where you couldn’t see Sandor, let alone speak to him or even kiss him, you started to fantasise about a life with him. One where you didn’t have to hide. A life where he would carry you out of the Red Keep and it would just be you and him. Nobody in the world to tell you no and nobody in the world coming between your love.  
“I wish I could walk through the Keep, holding your hand, I wish-“  
You were going to go on listing all the things you dreamed of but would never be able to do. At least not here, not where stags, wolves and lions reigned. It would have to be somewhere where wolves didn’t howl, lions didn’t roar, and stags didn’t prance. Somewhere far away. Tears escaped your eyes, rolling down your cheeks and gathering at your chin. They stained the expensive fabric of your court attire but in that moment, you didn’t care.  
Another sob rumbled through your body, making it shake violently. Sandor looked up from your hands, still kneeling in front of you and brought a hand to one side of your face. His touch was so very gentle, as if he was afraid of breaking you.  
“Don’t cry”, he said, “I never want to see you cry.” He sighed deeply and there was a certain pain hiding behind his eyes. “One day, I promise you, I will take you away from this castle and make you happy. I’ll throw you over my shoulder and we’ll never look back.”  
Just to make you laugh, he picked you up by your waist and hauled you over his shoulder. “See”, he laughed, “just like that.”  
“Put me down, Sandor.” You were clinging onto his body and holding on for dear life. “Put me down.”  
“Not until you smile again.”  
“See”, you tried your best to move your face muscles into a smile, to make them bend to your will, but all that really happened, was you showing your teeth. You raised your lips, so those pearls of white were exposed. Sandor let you down, sliding your body down across his armour. Still, he did not let go of your body, and instead place you on his bed. He slowly crawled next to you and let his fingers glide through your hair.  
“Don’t cry”, he said again as another tear escaped your eyes. You wanted to stop. You wanted them to stop flowing, but you couldn’t help it. This was so unfair. You had found someone you truly loved, and he loved you back. Why couldn’t you just be together?  
He placed a lose strand of hair behind your ear and kissed your lips gently. “I am here for now. I’m not going anywhere, not without you.” His arm travelled to lay across your stomach. “All that matters is us, and I will stay right here, right next to you, where I belong. I will make you that promise, too.” His lips were on your again and you let him consume your thoughts entirely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I stole that title form the lyrics of a Sam Smith song, yes, you caught me. But I thought it was cute. I hope you liked it, anon requester.  
Three people have commented on my last fic, and while you really don’t have to do that, waking up to comments is the best thing ever. SO, thank you!


	16. Sandor Clegane: Cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: swearing, angst

You had fought. Tears and screams and venom. You had said thing you hadn’t truly meant, and he had said hurtful word full off hate. That was all you ever got with him. He made you cry and sometimes you wondered whether it was worth it at all.  
In the end, he had left you standing there, cheeks wet with your tears and then, he had roared one more time and had slammed the door shut with such fury that the walls had shook.  
In your mind, they were still shaking. They pulsates with anger and hurt, but maybe that was your head. Crying so much had made you dizzy, and you went to sit down next to the bed. You wrapped your arms around your knees and pulled your legs close. In a way, you were trying to make yourself as small as possible.  
“Fuck”, you whispered under your breath.  
This time, this could be it. The end of you and him. You wouldn’t miss the constant yelling, the tears that stained your clothes and the hurt in your eyes from crying just a little too much. You wouldn’t miss the way you felt pity for yourself, the way people looked at you and the way he sometimes made you feel. All those tears, all the making up, and it would have been for nothing. This time it seemed more serious. He had raged, and for a second you had been afraid of him. He had been pure dragon fire and you had been nothing but dry wood. He had the power to destroy you, but then, he didn’t. He simply smashed his clenched fist onto a table, a few cracks appearing.  
The world was still spinning around you. With him, you had cried more than in the years combined before you had met him. Cried for him, when he had gone into battle and left you behind, fighting for his life and his survival at the mercy of the gods. Cried with him, as you had confessed your love for each other, both of you in disbelief. Cried besides him after a fight, curling into him and telling yourself that in the end, it was all worth it. Cried on top of him, happy tears, as you couldn’t believe your luck. Tender moments like that had kept you going in those moments willed with pain and tears.  
And most often, cried because of him, because he had raised his voice, wouldn’t accept your love, insulted you.  
In the end, all that had taken to stop those waterfalls from falling, was his touch. Usually, he would return in the evening or the early morning with his tail tucked in between his legs and kiss you softly. He would promise you that he would never hurt you again. His arms would wrap around your body and everything would be alright again.  
As the sun began to set and then, night had fallen, your gaze would find those heavy wooden doors again and again. Yet, the remained shut.  
You needed him to storm into your chambers, sweep you off your feet and kiss you deeply, the way he had for the first time almost a life time ago. That one kiss would heal your wounds. You needed him more than before and he didn’t come.  
For a second, you were raising the sheets, ready to climb in and let sleep claim you. But your fingers drew back from the soft linens. This was your bed. It was his and yours. And you had never slept in it without him. So, instead, you chose the chair near the fire place. The fire had died out ages ago, and you wondered if it was the same for his love for you.  
You drifted off into sleep but awoke several times. Every time you did, your heart beat a bit more rapidly against your ribcage. Perhaps Sandor entering had startled you, but it had never been him.  
“This really is it, then”, you said to yourself as you packed your things. It was the next evening and you couldn’t stand to be in these rooms any longer, not when the memory of him haunted these chambers. Every where you looked, you could remember sharing tender moments.  
Quickly, you stuffed your belongings into a satchel bag of his. it was the only bag that would fit all your things. You would tell a handmaid to return it to him. Or perhaps, you wouldn’t. It was a good bag, but he could get a new one and you wanted to hold on to at least one thing of his.  
You were about to leave through the door, when the doorknob turned quietly.  
He entered the room on a light foot. His eyes went straight through you and landed on the bed. His face was riddled with confusion and then, he bumped into you.  
“You’re not in bed”, he said.  
“It’s the next day”, you said and tried to push past his massive frame.  
His eyes squinted at the open window behind you. “I must have lost the track of time.” You were about to ask where he had been, but you caught yourself. You were not together anymore, you shouldn’t care for him, besides, his breath reeked of ale.  
You pressed yourself into the stone walls and again, tried to flee through the door.  
“Let me pass”, you said with the most courage you could work up. You felt your eyes prickle with the threat of tears again, but you tried to ignore them and swallowed hard.  
“Where are you going”, he asked with the voice of a child. How much did he have to drink?  
“Home.”  
“But, this is your home.” You could hear the hurt in his voice.  
You shut your eyes tight, trying to make the pain stop, but you just couldn’t go on like this. “Not anymore.” A single tear escaped your eyes and rolled down your cheeks.  
Sandor searched your face and then, he did something you had never seen him do. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but he began to sob. Not the way you did, wet cheeks and red eyes, but his bottom lip quivered, and he kept swallowing.  
“Please”, he said, his voice only a mere whisper, “please, I need you.” He tried to put his hand to the side of your face, but you turned away from his touch.  
“I can’t do this anymore, the fighting, the shouting, I can’t.”  
He simply looked at you, his body still shaking, but his face twisted in pain. It hurt like hell, seeing him like that, but this was for the best, wasn’t it? You tried to give him a smile, but the corners of your mouth wouldn’t move upwards.  
For what felt like an eternity, you just stood there, looking at each other. Then, he turned around and you hoped he would slam the door in your face and therefore finalise the end to your relationship, but instead, he walked towards the desk he had never sat at and opened a drawer. He took something small and walked back to you.  
He held it tightly in the palm of his hand and then closed his hand around yours. Once you opened it, you saw what it was. A golden ring. A wedding band. Your eyes widened in shock.  
“Stay”, he said, “stay and we will sort this mess out. Stay, and I will make sure that you never cry again. I promise you. All you need to do is stay.” And you did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Not a request, but this is a short fic I never uploaded, wrote it initially after listening to Make Me (Cry) by Noah Cyrus because it got me really emotional.  
If someone needs some fluff after this, check out my Masterlist and read the Epilogue for Together Or Not At All, Two Hearts or Right Here, Right Next to You.


	17. Sandor Clegane: Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: hi can u write a fic with Sandor and the prompt 7 “I’ll keep you warm“ where he’s complaining of the cold in the north and you don’t want him to be grumpy  
Warnings: swearing

Sheets ruffled, the sound of linen on linen and fur against skin.  
“Will you stop moving about, some of us have to defeat the dead soon enough.” You were trying to get some sleep, but he made that impossible. He wouldn’t stop tossing and turning. The dead were marching south, towards Winterfell, and you needed to rest. You were determined to fight them, fight until they had broken every bone in your body and drawn all the blood from your vessels. But in order to do that, you would need to sleep and the gruff man next to you made that impossible.  
“Don’t get on my nerves”, he scoffed and pulled the blanket towards his body and away from you, the cold night air nipped at your skin immediately. If, by some divine miracle, you managed to survive this, you would not stay here. Perhaps you could manage to persuade Sandor to travel a bit further to the Eyrie. You loved the mountains and it wouldn’t be as freezing there.  
A small smile crept upon your lips. He was actually getting on your nerves. He made it impossible for you to sleep, and here he was, being a grouchy old dog.  
“Oh”, you said, “is that so?” Your hand moved to his face and petted his cheek.  
“Will you leave me be?” His voice was as gruff as ever. You did not know what right he had to be upset. He was the one keeping you awake, not the other way around and he was the one stealing the blanket.  
You did not care for his tone but knew better than to anger him any further. Usually, you could calm him down with some gestures and soft touches, so your hand reached out to hold his. But, when your hand found his, you knew. He was as cold as ice.  
Perhaps it was the fire that had died out ages ago. You should have rekindled it, you knew that. He would not touch it. Not in a million years.  
“You’re as cold as ice”, you whispered tenderly. He only grunted in response. You let your thumb rub soothing circles into his skin.  
“Here”, you said and removed some of your own furs and placed them over him. “Let me.” Your fingers smoothed the furs out over his body. You would be cold now, but that wouldn’t matter too much. Hovering above him, you placed a chaste kiss onto the side of his face. “Sleep well.”  
Soon, you were drifting off into sleep, when you heard him mumble again. “How come I am covered in all the furs this castle has and I’m still fucking cold?” You shook your head at him. For a big, hard man he could sometimes be such a little girl. Well, a little girl with the mouth of a sailor.  
“I fucking hate the North.”  
“It’s good that we’re going to defend it then”, you laughed and turned around to face him.  
Even in the dark, you could see him pout. You curled into his side. “I’ll keep you warm”, you said and kissed him before lifting the covers that separated your bodies. Your skin against his. The warmth and smoothness of yours against the cold and roughness of his.  
You let one of your legs slip in between his, hoping to keep him warm that way.  
“Sleep now”, you said softly and wrapped your arms around his middle, hoping to pull him into sleep together with you. 

>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a short one, like the ones I used to write and before things got out of hand. I hope you like it, anon.  
Also, I have more than five lines of dialogue? Who is she!


	18. Sandor Clegane: Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence, Red Wedding  
Anon requested: Prompt 94 (“I won’t lose you too.”) with sandor x stark!reader?? Love your blog. Your writing is awesome  


You had been so close. They had been so close. If you had just been able to get to them on time. Only a few minutes earlier. If only that stupid horse had been faster.  
The banners of your house were burning. Frey men were soiling them with blood and dirt and mud. They were your banners now, you realised. You were the oldest Stark left in this world. Little Arya was just that. Little. And darling Sansa was still in the clutches of the boy king. Soon, she would be his, or some other Lord’s wife. She would no longer be a Stark.  
In a single night, you had been orphaned and now you were supposed to lead your house. You watched from the sides as your bannermen’s throats were slit, as dark crimson pooled out of their skin and as their stares turned into stone.  
You were a Stark. Would a Stark sit behind a pile of rubble and watch as their people get slaughtered? You were such a coward, a traitor to your name. Another direwolf burned. That grey symbol of hour house was erased from the white fabric of a linen banner. Enough was enough. You were a Stark of Winterfell and if you were going to die some way, it should be alongside your people, next to the corpses of them.  
A roar rippled though your body as you rose to your feet. You ran towards anything that moved. Your feet treaded on blood-soaked ground that slowly drenched your clothes. You didn’t know what had come over you, but you just kept charging forward. Sandor had given you a small blade to protect yourself and you didn’t really know how to use it, but what did it matter now? A knife was a knife, a sword was a sword and a blade was a blade.  
The first man had not seen what was going to hit him. You ran at him, feet faster than lighting and blade angled so that it would cut his neck open.  
Then someone brought his arm around your middle and held you back. It was an iron tight grip. There was nothing to be done.  
“Kill me so that I may lie with my brother and mother.” You held your neck high so that your attacker had a good and clean cut. There was nothing worse than dying painfully. At least this way it would be quick.  
But he simply pulled you into him, draping his cloak around the two of you and almost carried you in a different direction. That smell. You knew this person. Sandor.  
“Let me go”, you roared at him. You tried to make him let go of you, tried to escape his arms but he would not let you. “Let go!”  
He said nothing. No insults and no snarky remarks. Simply one foot after the other. It was horrible. You needed the real Sandor right now. If only to keep your tears from flowing. If only to make you angry at him and forget the slaughter of your family. Outside, he took hold of a horse and rode through the camp with you still in his tight grip. If he let go, you promised yourself, you would return and murder every single Frey there was on sight. Nothing and nobody would be able to stop you.  
You didn’t know how many days it had been, not how far you had gone with your horse, but Sandor let go of you.  
He wanted to make camp. He let go and ran off to find some food. This was your chance. If only you were a real direwolf, you could immediately sniff out where the next Frey was. Instead, you ran off into the direction of where you had come from. You would follow the horse’s tracks. They would lead you right back to the Twins. Walder Frey you were going to kill last. You would kill all his family, burn the Twin Towers to the Ground and make him watch, make him feel what you had felt.  
As soon as you couldn’t hear Sandor’s heavy footstep upon the ground anymore, you ran for it. You ran and ran until your lungs turned sour. Forwards, just forwards.  
“What the hell are you doing!” Impossible. You had made sure. You had been sure that he would not be able to catch up!  
He repeated his question. “What the hell are you doing!”  
You turned around to face him, your eyes like fire, but your cheeks wet from all the crying and your tear ducts threatening to release more.  
“I am all alone”, you almost shouted, “and I need to avenge them. I need to-“  
“You’re alone”, he said and it didn’t sound like a well meant question. “You have your sisters, you have that bastard at the wall.”  
“They’re all a thousand miles away. Maybe they’re with the rest of my family now.”  
“You’re not alone”, he said in a mocking tone. “And charging at soldiers with a butter knife and as much skill in battle as a cockroach is not going to do anything but kill yourself.” How dare he. He did not know what it felt like to see your house lay drenched in blood, to see a crowd cheering for your father’s head, to hear your sister scream for mercy, to see your brother’s headless body be defiled. He did not know.  
“What do you care”, you shouted.  
“I lost my entire family. My mother, father and sister. Gregor tried to kill me.” His face turned an angry red and you could see a vein on the side of his face pulsating. “You’re all I have, and I won’t lose you, too.” He stomped on the ground like an angry little child and turned away from you, storming off back to the camp side.  
Right there and then, you felt something shift within you. He was right. You were not alone, and you had been a fool not to see it. You had him. Through all the bad times, he had been there to protect you, to hold you and to care for you. Sandor had always been there from you. He was right about your fighting, too.  
“Wait”, you screamed at the top of your lungs, afraid that he was already out of ear-shot. “Wait!” You ran after him, tripping over roots and branches. Wait. He had to wait.  
“You will not lose me”, you said when you reached him. “I promise”.  
He barely nodded and then took your hand in his.


	19. Sandor Clegane: Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous: can you do a Sandor fic with prompt 86 (dont be scared, i’m right here) where he’s having a nightmare and the reader comforts him  
Warnings: swearing (it’s Sandor duh.)  


Your bones weighed heavy, weary from all the travelling. It was the same routine from one miserable day to the other. Wake up on the cold ground, straighten out your tunic, mount Stranger, ride until all blood had been drained from your legs, get off, make camp, go to sleep and then, start all over again.  
A shiver ran through your body as nightfall approached. You still hadn’t made camp. Of course you didn’t want to upset the big warrior behind you, so you suffered in silence. For the past three days he had been overly nice to you. That was of course nice in his way. He didn’t snap at you and mostly left you alone. You were beginning to miss his teasing, the way he would try to hurt you but all his remarks always seemed more playful than anything else. You missed his bickering, but if things were going better, you would appreciate that too.  
You thought that if you didn’t bother him unnecessarily, you would maybe be more than a travelling companion, a source of money to him. Because you wanted more. The first week with him had been horrible, but now, you couldn’t stop imagining. Your mind ran wild during those silent rides and in the night your dreams were even more vivid.  
His arms were around you all day. Of course he wouldn’t notice that, he just had to hold onto the reins, but his figure was so broad that he naturally had to rest his arms at your side. During the day, you kept admiring the curve of his muscles hidden underneath all that armour and his rough hands that did oh so gently guide Stranger forwards. Sometimes you would even dare to steal a quick glance at his face. His wonderful, beautiful face.  
If he only knew what you were thinking, you bet he would either yell at you, or he would laugh at your silliness.  
You sighed and felt him shift behind you. Perhaps he had noticed your discomfort as he brought Stranger to a halt.  
“We’ll stay here for the night”, he said and dismounted. Then, his fingers weer digging into the flesh of your hips as he lifted you off his warhorse.  
“I’ll make the fire”, you offered him. He simply nodded and went to find some food. You knew he was afraid of fire and that meant that you would always make it. it was your way of saying three words that you would never say to him in person. Damn those three words.  
He returned, a squirrel in hand and stripped it of its fur. It wasn’t much between the two of you, but it was better than nothing. Soon, you chose a spot next to the dying fire to rest your eyes. He also decided to go to sleep but he never let go of the hilt of his sword and he would not warm himself by the flames.  
“Goodnight”, you chirped and immediately wanted to kick yourself for it. He hated curtsies. You wanted him to like you and not the opposite.  
Something woke you. He was thrashing around, kicking invisible ghosts. At first you thought he was fighting off some bandits but no, just the air. Lighting bolts ran down your skin. Something about the way he shook and panted was ungodly. He was clearly suffering.  
You crawled over to him on all fours. It was too early int he day and you hadn’t regained full control of your body yet. Your limbs hung, and you knew that if you tried standing up, you would fall quicker than a bird without wings.  
You crawled over to him and out a soothing hand on his torso.  
“Sandor”, you whispered ever so gently. No reaction. He was still trapped in his nightmare. Then, you remembered what your mother had done when you had been little. You knew that he would give you shit for it but that didn’t matter to you. He was your protector but, in his dreams, he was the one who needed rescuing. And you were the only one who could do it.  
You moved to sit behind him and crossed your legs. With all your might and power, you managed to lift his upper body into your embrace. A song on your lips, you gently rocked him and wiped the sweat from his brow.  
He still didn’t wake, but his breathing became steadier and he no longer battled the demons in his mind. You watched him in the dim light of the early morning. His breath hitched again.  
You gently cooed at him. “Don’t be scared, I’m right here.” You repeated that phrase until sleep took your body out of this world and into another one, your arms still wrapped around him tightly and his head held close to your chest.  
When the first light of the day illuminated the sky and the birds began to sing your tunes, you heard Sandor groan.  
Your eyes fluttered open just in time to catch the confusion splattered across his face.  
“What in seven hells.” His eyes darted to your arms around his chest.  
“You were screaming in your sleep. I comforted you. Don’t be a dick about it.” You tried sounding as unbothered as possible, but you could feel your treacherous cheeks heat up with blood. No, you hadn’t minded sleeping like that, your bodies so close and his breath against your beating heart. Slowly, you removed your arms and tried to wiggle out from underneath his weight.  
“Sorry”, he said and rose to his feet. Did he just apologise? Had Sandor Clegane just apologised? And that to you? You couldn’t help but smile a little.  
“Please don’t be”, you said, swatting the dirt of your clothes, “It is the least I could do, and I would gladly do it again.” He was still embarrassed, you could see it from the way his gaze would never leave the ground. You looked at him, biting your lip and wanted to tell him, you did. But those three words were the hardest thing to say.  
Instead, you closed the distance between the tow of you and still high on that confidence, you took his hand into yours. Slowly, you rubbed small circles into the back of his hand. Ever so slowly, you looked up to him and met his brown eyes.  
He was in shock. He looked at you like you were going to kill him, drain the life out of him and leave him to rot. Still, you smiled at him and then, you felt his other hand reach the small of your back. he pushed you even further into him, his armour rattling. The next thing you could remember was his lips on yours, sealed tightly but tenderly.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry if this isn’t what you wanted, anon. I just lost my inspiration and will to ever touch a key board again half way through.  
I have mostly Sandor requests (then Jon, then Sansa) in my inbox (15 in total) so now I’m trying to publish a Sandor fic and another character a day. I know that I’m most “known” for Sandor and that most people are here for him, so look forward to one fic for him every day and another character. (hopefully I will have the discipline to do so)  
Also also, the poem Erlkönig by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe popped into my head while writing this. No idea wh


	20. Sandor Clegane: Rough Scars and Soft Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: swearing (the usual Sandor warning)  
request: Can I request fluffy first dates with the GoT men please? 💖 Sandor is my favorite, but I think it would be a pretty fun idea for any of them. (And if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could the reader be plus sized but not ashamed of her size?) Please and thank you! 💖💖💖  


You still couldn’t quite believe it. Sandor Clegane had asked you out on a date. You had been in love with him for quite some time now and after all the stolen glances, the soft chuckles and the not so accidental touches, he had finally gotten the message. When he had asked you with his gruff tone, you had seen a glimmer of fear cross his eyes. Was he afraid that you were going to reject him?

Of course you had almost shouted your answer, you were so full of glee.  
“You decide where to go”, he had said. “I don’t normally do these things.” You had debated over your date for hours. The problem was that this man was so full of secrecy and you did not know what he would enjoy. The museum? Would he like that? Did he enjoy art? It was probably too pretentious for him. The one thing you were certain about that he did not like fancy things and pretentious assholes. He had made that clear so many times. The cinema then? No, you didn’t know what sort of movies he enjoyed, plus, you wouldn’t be able to talk. Sitting next to him for hours, sulking in silence and eyes glued to a screen was not your idea of a romantic date.  
So, you began to brain storm what you did actually know about him. He was quiet, strong, tall, lovely brown eyes.  
“Focus”, you scolded yourself. He was quiet. And he liked to eat. You had seen him dig into his food at the cafeteria like he hadn’t eaten in years.  
Again, restaurants were too fancy and a bit much for a first date, but a picknick, he would enjoy that, wouldn’t he? It was something personal. You could make the food yourself and for his shyness, you could go off the beaten track and find something in the heart of nature. A picknick it was, then. You immediately texted him, your fingers slipping across the keyboard in anticipation. It took you quite some time to finish writing your message. You rewrote it a thousand times. There were so many things you could do wrong and he would not want to go out with you anymore. Should you use emojis? Should you end the text with a kiss? In the end, you just hit send to get it over with.  
And somehow all that thinking and waiting and being afraid had led to you sitting across from him on a polka dot blanket, eating grapes. When you reached for another one, your fingers brushed against his and you couldn’t help but blush. You bit your lip and looked at him through your eyelashes. He really was the man of your dreams. To the rest of the world he seemed gruff, mean and unapproachable. You knew better. He had offered to carry the heavy basket up the hill, had smiled shily when you had greeted him, and his touches were just like butterflies all over your skin. Soft, loving and making you shiver.  
The thing that bothered you was that he kept trying to hide his scarred side from you. He made sure to let his hair fall into his face and would sometimes even look away from you.  
“Stop that”, you said and reached out to hold his hand, leaving the grapes be for a second. “Don’t do that.” You tried to flash him a smile as to tell him that it was alright, to make him more comfortable around you.  
“What”, he grumbled.  
He was like that. Someone in the past must have made him feel awful about his scars. And the whole world was not helping. You had once heard one of the girls at your office whisper that Sandor Clegane, the Hound, was the ugliest man alive while pouring herself some coffee. You begged to differ. They had no right to say that about him. And that name, the Hound, Dog, as if he was some animal, as if he wasn’t human anymore. He was. He very clearly was.  
“Don’t be ashamed of them”, you said offering him another kind smile.  
He mumbled something that you couldn’t quite understand. Then, he turned around and perhaps it was a trick of the light, but you could have sworn that there had been the fain hint of a tear in his eyes.  
“I don’t want to scare you away”, he said, his gaze dropping to the floor once more.  
“You could never scare me away. But please don’t be ashamed of yourself.” You pressed his hands gently. “Do you expect me to be ashamed of myself? The way I look?”  
“What do you know about that anyway”, he sneered and let a loud breath escape his nose. He probably felt that he was being mocked by your words, but you would never lie to him.  
“Well, do I look to the typical person to you? No. And I refuse to not love myself and the body that I have.”  
He looked at you then, a shy and careful glance. “But you’re perfect.” You wanted to dwell on the fact that the man you loved had just called you perfect. He seemed almost scared of loving you, you realised. So, you decided to make him see, to open his eyes and rebuild what years of mockery had destroyed.  
“Some people don’t think so.” It had taken you a while to be at peace with the way you looked but now, you would not trade your curves and your body for the world.  
“Some people are cunts”, he rasped. A smile spread across your lips and you closed the distance between you.  
“Exactly”, you said and wrapped your arms around his middle. “You should see that, too.”  
This would be the first of many times that you had to remind him how lucky you were to have each other. You would have to tell him a lot, but you knew that he needed time to heal. And you would be there, every step of the way. No matter what.  
You pushed a few of the strands of hair covering his face back behind his ear. “I think you’re perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Modern AU for The First of Many because I couldn’t settle on writing one or the other (Also, yes, I recycled the dialogue because basically writing the same thing twice is draining). So, here you go. I probably won’t be doing lots of AUs though. I like staying in that fantasy lane.  
It will never be too much trouble to write body positivity into my writing. Never. I not only believe that all bodies are beautiful. All of them. I know it. So, I hope this met your expectations.  
I’ve had a hard time loving me for who I am and I feel like this goes for a lot of people. So, here you go.  
I usually leave the gender, body type, hair colour, skin colour etc. out of my fics because this is an inclusive zone and I want everyone to be able to insert themselves, I mean that’s what these fics are for. I will write in specifics about gender or body types when asked because it matters to the reader to actually see themselves in there and have it manifested in writing. That’s why I have three (and more to come) specifically female inserts with female characters because it matters. Wlw (doesn’t matter if you’re lesbian, bi, pan, queer and all the other identities that I am not listing) exist, and they matter. Plus-sized people exist, and they matter.  
End of rant. Have a nice day.


	21. Sandor Clegane: The First of Many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I request fluffy first dates with the GoT men please? 💖 Sandor is my favorite, but I think it would be a pretty fun idea for any of them. (And if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could the reader be plus sized but not ashamed of her size?) Please and thank you! 💖💖💖  


Somehow, you found yourself near the docks of Kingslanding. The day ways still young and the stench off the capital had not boiled up yet. A fresh breeze grazed your cheek which was rare given the sun was already burning down from high above. You had not been able to sleep last night. After all the more or less accidental touches, the stolen glances, the smiles you had flashed him and redness in your cheeks every time he had looked at you, he had asked you, no, more commanded you to go to the shores of the Blackwater with him.  
Of course you had happily obliged. He was Kingsguard. Courting was usually not an option, but he was no knight as he kept insisting. It just meant that this had to remain a little secret, your precious little secret.  
You were strolling along the way talking about nothing important. You did most of the talking but he did give a few short responses. If you didn’t know him better, you would have thought that he was not interested, but you knew him and knew that he was not big with words. Actions meant more to him, so you made sure to touch the side of his arm, smile and laugh. All of those soft little gestures were genuine. You had been in love with him for a long time and perhaps he returned your feelings.  
Still, this was not how you had wanted things to go. He did look at you, but he kept hiding the scarred side of his face with his hair, or by turning away from you.  
He did it again, shook his head so that strands of his hair fell into his face and covered the burn marks. He never did that while on duty. Only now that he was alone with you.  
“Stop that”, you said and reached out to hold his hand. “Don’t do that.” You tried to flash him a smile as to tell him that it was alright, to make him more comfortable around you.  
“What”, he grumbled.  
He was like that. Someone in the past must have made him feel awful about his scars. And the whole world was not helping. You had once heard one of the handmaidens whisper that Sandor Clegane, the Hound, was the ugliest man alive. You begged to differ. They had no right to say that about him. And that name, the Hound, Dog, as if he was some animal, as if he wasn’t human anymore. He was. He very clearly was.  
“Don’t be ashamed of them”, you said offering him another kind smile.  
He mumbled something that you couldn’t quite understand. Then, he turned around and perhaps it was a trick of the light, but you could have sworn that there had been the fain hint of a tear in his eyes.  
“I don’t want to scare you away”, he said, his gaze dropping to the floor once more.  
“You could never scare me away. But please don’t be ashamed of yourself.” You pressed his hands gently. “Do you expect me to be ashamed of myself? The way I look?”  
“What do you know about that anyway”, he sneered and let a loud breath escape his nose. He probably felt that he was being mocked by your words, but you would never lie to him.  
“Well, do I look to the typical person to you? No. And I refuse to not love myself and the body that I have.”  
He looked at you then, a shy and careful glance. “But you’re perfect.” You wanted to dwell on the fact that the man you loved had just called you perfect. He seemed almost scared of loving you, you realised. So, you decided to make him see, to open his eyes and rebuild what years of mockery had destroyed.  
“Some people don’t think so.” It had taken you a while to be at peace with the way you looked but now, you would not trade your curves and your body for the world.  
“Some people are cunts”, he rasped. A smile spread across your lips and you closed the distance between you.  
“Exactly”, you said and wrapped your arms around his middle. “You should see that, too.”  
This would be the first of many times that you had to remind him how lucky you were to have each other. You would have to tell him a lot, but you knew that he needed time to heal. And you would be there, every step of the way. No matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Normal setting for Rough Scars and Soft Words (check out this modern au for more of that) because I couldn’t settle on writing one or the other (Also, yes, I recycled the dialogue because basically writing the same thing twice is draining). So, here you go. I probably won’t be doing lots of AUs though. I like staying in that fantasy lane


	22. Sandor Clegane: Jealous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: set in between S08E05 and S08E06 , mighty angst  


The Raven arrived a few hours ago. Ravens, omens of death and monsters that had sparked nightmare within you when you had been just a child.  
Sansa had opened it in the Great Hall and had read it with such a calm in her voice, you had found it unsettling. She had to keep her guard up for any enemies she might have in her own court, you knew that.  
The message was long and you felt your attention slip away and into the night. Then, she began to read a list of names, most of them Northern Commanders but there was one name that you did not want her to speak.  
If she did, she might as well impale you.  
Yet, your prayers were not answered. Sandor of House Clegane. You were standing at the back of the hall and you felt her gaze dart to you as your bottom lip quivered.  
“No”, you said. “No.” Were you screaming? You couldn’t be sure.  
You ran away from it all, from the paper that had his name on it, the stuffy hall that had almost suffocated you, the Northmen who had given you pitying glances and the candles that had danced through the night without a care in the world, that had kept on dancing even though he was dead, even though your world was no more.  
He was dead, you known it before Sansa had read his name from a list of dead men. He had been so determined to head to the capitol and end what his brother had started. At first you had tried to persuade him to stay with you, to bury his anger for his brother. But you had known that he had to do this. He had kept apologising to you, told you how sorry he was. Had he cried? You couldn’t remember? You couldn’t remember the last thing he had said to you. Only your last words, an I-love-you and, “There is nothing to forgive.”  
He had to go. All that pain and sorrow over a wooden knight. You thought you had died the day you had been forced to watched as his silhouette had disappeared on the horizon. You had been stupid and innocent back then.  
Back then, there had still been hope, there had been a chance that he would return to you just like he said he would. He hadn’t said it then, and that should have been a warning on how little the chances had been of him returning, but you had refused to accept it. Before, every time that he had left you, he had promised you to return, to come back to you and he had kept it against all odds.  
“My lady”, you approached Sansa, “I would like to travel to King’s Landing with you.” You had barged into her quarters and with Brienne worrying over the journey south, nobody had been there to stop you.  
She squinted her eyes at you. You had been in her company for too long, had gotten to know her too well and the other way around. She saw straight through you.  
“You want to look for him”, she said offering you a sad smile. “You won’t find him.” Sansa stood and reached her hand for you to take. Slowly, you inched closer, every muscle you had to move, hurting. Her hand was cold and smooth. So much unlike his. You missed his touch, his voice, his breath on your neck and his rumbling laughter he only ever gave you.  
“I want to bury him properly”, you said and had to bite the insides of your cheeks. Tears bit at the rims of your eyes. You would not cry. Not again. You had only stopped mere minutes ago, as you had prepared to ask Sansa for this favour.  
“Of course, you do”, she said, “of course you do, but I am not certain that you will find him. From what I could gather from the Raven, King’s Landing is more ruins than city.”  
“I can try”, you said trying to move the corners of your mouth to form a smile. They would not raise.  
She was a good friend, tried to talk you out of it. not for her benefit but for yours.  
“It could tear you apart, finding his body, we don’t know under what circumstance he died.” She kept repeating and repeating it, but in the end, she gave in.  
You ran to your quarters and began packing, but even that proved to be an impossible task. These had been his chambers once, too.  
Somehow, in your rage and sorrow you began spiralling down again. He was out there, somewhere cold and unloving. Where was he now? Was he well taken care of? Perhaps he had gone to find his sister. Sobbing, you fell to your knees and folded your hands.  
“Take care of him”, you breathed into the room, “the way I cannot anymore.” You realised right there and then, that you were jealous of his peace. Wherever he was, there had to be peace and here you were, alone, crying and in a world full of pain. You were jealous of how the rest of the world could keep on turning without feeling a thousand daggers through its heart every second that he was not here.  
Wherever he was, you wished him the best, and only the best. Happiness and peace. What he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Not a request but I cried so hard after watching a – I believe it was X-factor – performance of Jealous by Labrinth and if this is what gets me back into writing, then so be it.  
I’m sorta back. My mind feels really empty and I don’t type as fast as I used to. I don’t know what’s going on either.


	23. Sandor Clegane: Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested: Can you write a Sandor Clegane X Reader fluff fic where the reader is a Stark and is travelling with him? Maybe they can stop at a tavern Inn and the reader gets tipsy and is all lovey dovey with him? Or he gets drunk and is kinda soft and the reader is shook because she never saw him like that? Thank you very much dear, I love your writing btw xx  


How tired could one human person possible be? You had probably reached the limit. Inside of your thigs, your muscles had gone numb. They were past sore now. Painful strings of muscles ran down towards your ankles. And after begging and begging, after crying into his ears and the promise of a nice cold jug of ale, he had giving in, grunting and rolling his eyes.  
You had taken to the nearest inn, tied Stranger next to the other horses and found the darkest corner to come to a rest. When Sandor had dismounted you had immediately missed the warmth of his body against yours and the way he would inch just a tiny bit closer with every breath he had taken against your back. He had helped you down and your body had been so worn out that your knees had given in.  
“Can’t even walk on your own, now”, he had mocked you, a small smile upon his lips.  
You hadn’t quite known how to respond to that and instead had felt blood rushing to fill your cheeks. It had been quite some time before he and you had begun travelling. During all those weeks and all those nights, you had felt your heart aching for him. Every time he touched you, breathed down your neck, or had even just looked into your direction, you had felt your senses freeze and your body had wanted to move closer to him. But, you had kept all those feelings buried deep down. you knew that he did not feel that way about you and it would be mean of you to confront him with a love he did not want.  
Inside he had tossed a few coins towards the inn keeper and had paid no mind to the rest of the smallfolk. You, however, had cowered behind him. Without him right behind you, you felt vulnerable and you did not like it. Of course, the other guests stared at him. That was how things would always be with him and it bothered you. He was not something to be stared at. He was a human being, and someone you loved, and he deserved to be treated as such.  
The hours passed by, and Sandor almost swallowed a few chickens and drank more ale than you believed Robert Baratheon had during his lifetime. You knew how much he liked his liquor, but it had never been as excessive as this. Perhaps he was trying to numb the pain you were sure, he had to feel, too. You had spent too much time sleeping on cold hard rocks and atop a broad warhorse, after all.  
You also nipped at your drink but the heat of the alcohol and the burning sensation trickling down your throat stopped you from drinking more than half a glass. Most of the smallfolk had left by now, withdrawing to the sleeping quarters or making their way back to the road.  
You were tearing apart some white meat of a chicken in front of your face, when you noticed that Sandor’s eyes hadn’t left you in quite a while. You smiled shyly and put down your food.  
“Is there something on my face”, you asked and perhaps it was for the playfulness of your tone, but he reached towards your face and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.  
“Sandor, what are you doing.” You giggled at this silly gesture. He had told you how he despised these senseless things, how he hated the foolishness of courting and the little boys and girls who were in love with love.  
“You’re beautiful.” He reached for the ale again.  
“I think you’ve had enough”, you said and put your hand around his big claw. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” He grunted, almost roared at this and clenched his hand around yours this time. Even drunk, he needed dominance.  
“I damn well know what I’m doing. If you’re repulsed by an ugly dog like me saying these things to you, then do it, say it, but don’t try to tell me that I’m lying.”  
“Alright then”, you said, “is there anything else you want to tell me?” It would be so easy now, to get him to say it. It would be easier on you, too. He brought a hand to the side of your face and cupped it softly as if your skin was made out of the finest porcelain, as if you could break underneath his touch. You had never seen him like that. He was always this big hard man, voice like thunder and spirit darker than the night.  
Nevertheless, you had fallen for him. No, you had deliberately stepped over that edge towards love and had pulled the ground up towards you. Never, not in a thousand years, had you expected him to return these feelings, or even to be soft with you. You wanted more of him, more of his kind words and shivering touches. He was the liquor now, and you were the addict.  
He let his thumb graze over your dirty cheek and his gaze travelled towards your lips.  
“I”, he was squinting in pain, as if he was in actual agony from trying to conjure up words.  
“I know”, you said, still high on the surprise of this softer side of him. “I know.” You stood, and his hand dropped onto the table with a loud thud. You sat down next to him on his bench and closed your eyes. You inched towards his face and pressed your lips to his. You were so afraid he would reject your chaste kiss, but instead, he pulled you into him and only deepened the kiss by even bringing you onto his lap.  
He was the one to break the kiss and when he did, there was nothing hateful in his eyes, only your own reflection. “You’re so beautiful”, he said and let his finger glide through your hair.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you like it! Those comments on my last fics really gave me a motivational boost. Thank you so much for that!  
Is this my return to writing? I honestly don’t know. I am one moody and burned out girl.


	24. Sandor Clegane: Deeds Not Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Spoilers for S08E04, swearing  
requested: Hi! It’s my first time requesting something, so i’m sorry if it’s kinda bad idea, but I was thinking in a 15 (“Shouldn’t you be with him/her?”) and 99 (“I fell in love with you, not them.”) of the prompt list, with a Stark!Reader x Sandor were they are at a feast or something, maybe after de Winterfell battle. Like they have been together for a long time, and are very close, but never talked about it, and maybe Sandor thinks reader is into Tormund.I really wish you enjoy it and that I’m not the only one who thinks it’s a good idea hahaha

The feast was breathing life back into the hall that your ancestors had built after the dead had threatened to suck it all out. Crowds cheering for your sister, the hero of Winterfell they called her, roaring wildling men congratulating your brother, ale pouring in floods and the smell of roast everywhere. You were sat next to your sister. All those years a captive and now she seemed more regal than the Dragon Queen on your left. You were truly happy for her, but this was not a life you yourself wanted. There was a life you dreamed of somewhere outside the gates of Winterfell with someone you were sure was nowhere interested in you.  
You were friends with him. He was not as gruff with you as he was with the others, but you were not even sure that Sandor Clegane, the Hound, would let himself love another person. You sighed deeply and stabbed the fork through your chicken.  
“Go”, your sister said next to you. “You can stare at him all night long and sigh so loudly that even Cersei can hear you all the way from King’s Landing, or you can go sit with him and actually enjoy yourself.”  
You sighed again. It was not that easy. Sure, he wouldn’t mind you sharing some ale with him, but it pained you to sit across from him and being able to hold his hand, to steal some glances and tell him how you really felt. But you would never risk the friendship in exchange for awkwardness, not after all that he meant to you, you refused to throw everything away like that.  
“Look”, Sansa said, “Either, you go over there right now, or, I will invite him to this table.” You laughed at the thought of Sandor sitting at the high table reserved for Lords and Ladies. How he would hate it. You nodded and grabbed your jug, but not before turning around to Sansa.  
“You approve”, you asked shyly.  
“It is not my place to approve of anything, but as a sister, yes. If he makes you happy and treats you kind, what right would I have to object?” That was all you needed to hear, and you made your way through the cheering and chattering crowds. The mood was ecstatic. The dead were defeated. Nobody had thought it and yet here you were, in a hall full of people thanking the gods that hey were alive.  
And yet, there he was, sitting alone at a table. You didn’t like the big crowds either, but you smiled, your heart warming with every step you took.  
“Is this seat taken”, you asked and almost had to shout over the roar of men celebrating the sole fact that they were alive.  
He only grunted, but the hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth told you that you were free to sit with him. Sandor Clegane was not one for big words, but you didn’t need him to be. He was a man of deeds, not words and you loved him for it. there was not a single thing he had said that he had not meant. That set him apart from the rest of the world. It also made things difficult. He only ever said what was true and one his mind at that moment, but the occasions when he spoke of his feelings were rare, even non-existing when it came to his feelings of love and goodness in his heart. He liked to tell everyone of the anger and hate he had for the world and you knew that he was more than just that. He had to be.  
“The little wolf has finally come to sit with the dog”, he said and if you didn’t know him so well, you would have missed the hint of a joke in his voice.  
“Same thing as always. Somehow, I always wind up here.”  
He laughed, but then turned to look where Tormund Giantsbane, one of the wildlings following your brother, was standing and making a fool of himself in front of the Northern Lords. You naturally followed his gaze, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.  
“Thought that this time, you might end up with him.”  
You were confused. What in seven hells was he talking about? Had he not noticed you staring at him all night? Was he really that blind? “I honestly don’t know what you are talking about Clegane, one of the dead soldiers must have hit you on the head real hard.”  
Suddenly, his mood shifted from the usual playful banter to him growling at you. “Don’t lie to me. I saw you staring at the ginger cunt all night.”  
“What?”  
“Shouldn’t you be with him?” He leaned back and took a good look at you. You on the other hand, were still confused. You had not even spared Tormund a thought until a few seconds ago. You loved Sandor, and only him. You were of course too much of a coward to say so, but you were truly disappointed that Sandor had even rejected you without you asking. He wanted you with another. You swallowed the lump in your dry throat and looked at him with fire burning in your eyes. Your tears would soon come, and they would spill out onto your cheeks in waterfalls. He did not need to see that. So, you sprang to your feet.  
“I fell in love with you, not him”, you said before turning on your heel and darting for a side door.  
You did not hear him follow you until you were in a narrow corridor of the castle. His rough hand yanked you against a cold stone wall and you felt pain spread though your shoulder like a spider’s cobweb.  
“What is your problem”, you yelled at him.  
“I could ask you the same question. Does it bring you joy to play with people’s feeling? Because let me tell you, little wolf, you will not come out on top.”  
“I think I already have”, you hissed and withdrew yourself from his grip. “I was staring at you all night, you daft fool. You were sitting right next to that wildling, in case you have forgotten.” You were staring to walk away, the heat of anger burning through your veins and the icy cold of defeat freezing you heart in its place.  
He was a fool, and so were you, thinking that you could make him love you, that deep down, he had buried feelings of love for you, that deep down, you desired him like you desired him. You were the daft fool after all. Love was stupid and foolish. Your sister had already realised it and you had just been too in love to see it.  
He quickly caught up to you, taking your hand in his, this time no impact with hard stone followed, instead, he brought his other hand to the small of your back and held you close to him. You were still confused to what he was doing, if he was mocking you. But he brought his lips down to yours, crashing them against you and you knew. He was a man of deeds and this deed said more than a thousand meaningless words could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: huh, I’m really trying to squeeze all writing juice out of me before I go back into hermit mode and hiss at the sight of a keyboard. Enjoy it while it lasts!  
Hope you like it! I really liked the idea of it, so here you go. I’m currently trying to tackle some of the older requests, but I’ll do the ones first that interest/inspire me the most.  
Also, trying to incorporate more dialogue, tell me, if you prefer it this way, or the way it used to be: three lines of dialogue and so much description.


	25. Sandor Clegane: Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Spoilers for S08E04, swearing  
Anon: Can I request Sandor with prompt “No matter what, I’d still choose you”? Thank you!  


You were alive, you were unharmed. You had survived the long night and so had he. When you had gone to bed last night after all the bodies had been burnt, the smell of rotten flesh still in the air, you had curled into his side, clinging to his massive frame and making him wrap his strong arms around him.  
“Lie with me”, you had told him, pulling him even closer. You had heard them talk about marching to King’s Landing and you were sure he had heard the Lords and Ladies chatter about it, too. And that would lead to one thing and one thing only. He was going to leave. He was determined to kill his brother and you had to keep him from doing so.  
He had seen it himself, the Mountain was no more, he was a corpse walking. The shell of the man he had once been had remained and the only thing left was violence and brutality. You loved Sandor and because you did, you knew that he would not come out on top. Revenge had blinded him, and his stupid pride was threatening to take everything from you. He was your entire world, the only thing that mattered in this life and you knew that he was going to part from you.  
That night, you had tried to stay awake, tried to force your eyes to never close and tried to intertwine your limbs so that he may never leave. You had wrapped his body around you and had tangled your legs together.  
“Stay here,” you said and kissed his face, his lips, his cheeks, his fore head and his nose. Perhaps you were trying to drown out the hate that he held for his elder brother with your love.  
“I love you”, you kept telling him and your heart pained when he didn’t say it back. You tried to stay awake, tried to hold him back in case he decided to leave. But your body was weak and the exhaustion form barely escaping death made you weary. The fight against the heavy weight of your eyelids had been short and, in the end, it had forced you to your knees and forced you to give into the land of dreams.  
Still, you hoped that he would wake you by stirring and having to detangle your limbs from his body. You prayed that you were enough to change his mind, enough to make him stay.  
But when you woke, cold and lonely, you knew that your efforts had not been enough. You had not been enough. He was gone. He was riding towards his own grave.  
At first, you wanted to cry your heart out, wanted to scream and trash around in your sad and lonely bed, but there was still time. it would take at least a fortnight for him to reach the capital. That meant that you had a fortnight to make him stir his horse around. Gods, why did you have to fall in love with such a pig-headed man.  
You grabbed your cloak and dressed yourself while running to the stables. Nothing and nobody would be able to stop you know. You were on a mission and nobody would be able to keep you from your love. In your haste you dropped something, but you couldn’t care less. You were still tying tunics to your body when you reached the stables.  
“Seven hells”, a gruff voice said.  
You had startled him. You had managed to catch Sandor Clegane, one of the most feared warriors in Westeros, off guard.  
“What are you doing down here. Go back to bed”, he said but didn’t turn around to face you.  
“Only if you go with me”, you said and tried to sound strong. You were intimidated. Not by him, but by the prospect of losing him and it was so close. Had you awoken a minute later, you would have had to chase him through the snow.  
“Can’t”, he simply said, fastening a few straps on his horse that you both knew didn’t need to be secured. He was just trying to avoid looking in your eyes.  
You exhaled loudly and crossed your arms in front of your body. “We both know that’s a lie. You can take my hand and you can go back to bed with me, you just don’t want to.” He flinched at your words.  
“Sandor”, you said through gritted teeth, your head pulsing with anger, “Look at me when I am speaking with you. It may be the last time that you ever see my face after all and I will not have this discussion with your back.”  
“Good”, he still wasn’t moving, “Because we are not having this discussion.”  
You sighed, annoyed with his childishness and with the entire situation. He was going to die, you both knew it and what frustrated you most was that his death would be in vain. It would be in vain, it would have no meaning and it could be prevented so easily. If he wasn’t going to turn around, you would just have to stand in front of him. Quickly, you marched over to where he stood and pressed yourself in between horse and man.  
His eyes widened in shock before dropping to the floor. He was still not able to look at you.  
“Look at me”, you said, your voice stern. “Look at me”, you repeated, this time softening your tone. “Please, Sandor, look at me.”  
And he did, he raised his gaze and found your eyes. They told you more than his mouth could ever. He was already regretting this. He hated himself for it. perhaps, of you pushed him enough, you could change his mind and turn his life around.  
“Why are you choosing death over me? Am I so unbearable?”  
“No”, he tried to speak but you interrupted him.  
“Then, tell me, why are you choosing hatred for your dead cunt brother over me? Why? After all that we have been through, after all I had to endure, no matter what, I’d still choose you. Why can’t you choose me?” You breathed in sharply. “You have a choice, you do.”  
“It is not that easy, not when you have hated for as long as I have.”  
Your jaw tightened at that. It was as plain as day. His mind was set.  
“Fine, go get yourself killed, but don’t expect me to cry over your grave”, you were walking away from him.  
“I don’t want you to cry over me”, he said.  
“Oh, dear Sandor, you keep lying to yourself. Go, get yourself killed.” Your face hardened, and you tried to look at him with the coldness of the snow outside. “Choose misery and choose to leave me.”  
He looked at you and you saw him chewing the insides of his cheeks. Something in him had to have changed because he charged at you like a hungry man would run towards a nicely cooked meal. His mouth consumed yours, his hands where everywhere at once and your thoughts were replaced by only his body and yours.  
“Fuck him”, he said into the kiss.  
“Yes, fuck your brother. This is better than killing him and dying, isn’t it.”  
He smiled down at you and then, laughter erupted from his stomach. “Were you really going to ride after me like that?”  
“Yes, what’s so funny?”  
He laughed again ad kissed your forehead. “You’re only wearing one shoe.” Your eyes left his face and darted towards your feet. It was true. Then again, you had dropped something in the courtyard before. That had to have been the shoe.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Will this be my last fic for today? Who can tell! I sure can’t. Plus, just had a heart attack because a dude creeped up behind me and started talking while I was listening to music and writing! So, I am properly awake now.  
I am also in love with the community here.


	26. Sandor Clegane: Protected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon: Hello! Love your writings! Could you pretty please write a fic were the reader was traveling with Sandor and her sister Arya and she stayed with Sandor when he was injured, then what their time is like in the little village with Ray?  


Even though you had drawn all the curtain close, the sun had found its way into the little cottage you shared with him. You groaned as if you were the weary old wood that the cabin was made out of. You certainly felt as if you were. Every bone inside your body ached and pain clawed at your muscles, ripping string through your flesh. You had worked a lot yesterday. Up and down the hills and into the valleys of the Quiet Isle you had run, collecting wood and berries, and everything you needed to make your cabin look more like a home then just dark brown wood panelled together.  
He was still asleep next to you and his heavy arm still clutched the fabric of your nightshift. His breath was steady, and you had learned to love these moments before he woke up. He still was thunder and white pain, that part of him would never leave, but now, now, he smiled softly in his sleep. You never told him about how you watched his sleeping form in awe. As soon as his eyelashes began to flutter, you would press your eyes shut and pretend to sleep. This time was no different.  
Sandor rolled his shoulders back and the last thing you saw before you shut your eyes swiftly, was the way he flexed his muscles and forced them out of their dormant sleep.  
You waited with anticipation for him to wake you the same way he did every morning. And then there they were. His arms snaked around your middle and drew you closer. So close in fact that you were now resting on top of his stomach, your face pressed against his heart.  
People were surprised he had one, a heart. They would never know how much love Sandor Clegane held in his. Only you knew, and Ray, and the villagers who never failed to notice the soft touches and love-sick gazes.  
“Good morning”, he said and kissed your temple as he did every day. “Good morning, little wolf.”  
You sighed as if you had just woken up and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. His beard scratched your skin and you gave into the sensation of roughness and smoothness.  
“Morning.”  
He kissed the top of your head and you could feel him breathing in heavily. His ribcage rose and just like the tide took away the water, he released the flood of air into your head.  
“We need to get up”, he said and rubbed small circles into your shoulder. You knew that this was your queue to get up and release him from underneath you, but you simply stayed where you were and buried your face into his tunic even more.  
“Ray needs us.” He had changed. He took his duty and his position in the little village more serious than he had guarding the boy king who had murdered your father and almost broken your sister. He was not to blame. Perhaps, after all these years, he was tired of fighting, of bleeding and making others bleed, of bringing steel against steel and taking lives.  
You looked up into his brown pools filled with love and calm and smiled. “I know”, you sighed.  
Your eye brows softened, and he brought his big hand to the back of your head. It was rougher than before. But for once it wasn’t cuts and scars from fighting a drunk in a tavern. He had built this home for you. All the walls around you and the warmth that they brought – that had been him. So, you gladly accepted them and him.  
He kissed you one last time, a deep and true kiss, one that he had only begun to share with you after you and Ray had carried him away from the rest of the world. You were glad you had refused to kill him.  
“Alright, girl, we need to go”, he simply said and lifted you off him.  
“It was worth a try”, you giggled and he shook his head as if he was a silly boy, and you a silly girl, protected from the world, and only love between you.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know this is short, but I felt like writing just a little something. I still hope it is somewhat what you wanted. My exams are coming up and I am stresssssssssed.  
Also really sore because I climbed a really high mountain and forgot that I am not as fit as I used to be. I know, a billion smart points to me.  
(Also, also, please comment it would mean the world to me)


	27. Sandor Clegane: Green Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader knew Sandor when they were kids and they reunite in Winterfell when the King comes and confess that they had crushes?  


As you hurried through the halls of Winterfell you couldn’t help but smile. it dawned on you how far you had come. Once, a child of the Westerlands, you were now serving the ancestral house of the North.  
Perhaps it was improper to thing that way, but you did not miss home. Once upon a time, there had been someone to miss, but that seemed like a life time ago. You were lucky enough to be serving such a great and ancient house. Your parents had served Tywin Lannister and his father before him, but you were grateful for the kindness in Lord Stark’s voice when he shouted commands. The North had treated you kindly, no matter what the rest of the Seven Kingdom’s had to say about it.  
You had learned to love the North and its family. From far away you could hear pompous trumpets announcing the King’s riders, though the footsteps of the servants running about the corridors were louder than the horses.  
“They’re here”, a young serving girl squealed.  
Just as the gates opened and the first riders poured into the courtyard, as the King had finally reached Winterfell, you had made it to a balcony. The Queen’s carriage stopped in the middle of the old sad courtyard and you held your breath. You had known Cersei when she had been just the daughter of the Hand. The blonde beauty had not known you. You had just been smallfolk and Tywin’s daughter never had time for those people anyways. You doubted that it had changed.  
Still, you sucked in a sharp breath when she exited the carriage. The years had treated her very kindly, too. She was even more beautiful than when you had last seen her. Every inch of her demanded to be worshipped. Yet, someone else truly took your breath away. across the courtyard someone had caught your eye.  
Someone you had not seen in years, not since he had been a boy. Your eyes found his face and those feeling that had existed a life time ago dug themselves out of their graves. One look at that man was all that it had taken.  
But it would have to wait. You couldn’t exactly strut past the King and Lord and Lady Stark just because you felt like it, no, you had to wait, and so you did.  
There was to be a feast held in the King’s honour and after you had found out that Sandor Clegane was to attend, too, you decided that you would try to see him there. You pulled out your finest robes from the bottom of your chest and when the night came you prayed to the Gods that the smell of old wood had been aired out.  
The lights inside were dim but you had been here at Winterfell for quite some time now. You were used to the cold and the dark, sometimes perhaps a bit too much. In the flicker of the flames his scars stood out amongst the rest of the guards.  
When it had happened, they had been so red and angry, he had been, too. A young boy he had been but from that day on, he had not been the Sandor you had know. Something inside of him had changed. Hatred had burned his scars into his face and hatred it was that had dictated his actions from then on.  
Sometimes it had seemed like you had been the only exceptions to it.  
”They’re all rotten, rotten, I tell you”, he had roared once.  
“Even me”, you had asked shyly.  
“No, not you. You’re too good for them.” l Perhaps he would show you the same kindness and the same genuine look into his soul as he had back then.  
You approached the guards and cleared your throat.  
“Clegane, the Prince is in need of your service.” It had been the only thing that had come to your mind that would make him leave the group in the first place.  
Biting your bottom lip, you were hoping that your little lie was enough to make him turn his head.  
You watched has his shoulders tensed and you felt that he was about to spit an insult at you but when his eyes found yours, he swallowed dryly and only nodded.  
He followed you outside into the cold night.  
Perhaps it was improper, but without a warning, you threw yourself around his neck.  
“I missed you, Sandor”, you sighed but you drew back when you noticed the stiffness of his posture.  
“It’s the Hound now. No more of that Sandor shite.” You opened your mouth, but he would not let you speak. “What are you doing up here?”  
“Well”, you said and crossed your arms in front of your body, “Sandor, I serve the Lord and Lady Stark now. You serve another house now and so do I.”  
No harsh words this time, only a raised eyebrow. “I hoped we could speak like we did when we were little, but I was mistaken, I bid you good night, ser.”  
“Fuck you and your sers”, he sneered.  
“You truly have changed. Gods, and to think that I was in love with you”, you turned on your heel and were off to your chambers, but his strong hand clasped around your arm, holding you back.  
“You were in love with me?” His expression changed right there. He was the Hound no more, but little Sandor, playing in the fields with you, laughing and collecting flowers.  
“Yes”, you said but you held your head high. You were not going to take another insult.  
He let some air escape his nose. “All these years”, he began to muse.  
“What?”  
“When I was still green from head to toe, I thought that I would marry you some day.”  
A small smile spread across your lips and you gently placed a hand over his. “My feelings have not changed”, you said and then an ever so careful thought escaped your mouth, “have yours?”  
“Never”, he said and smiled before walking back towards the buzzing noise of the feast  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: it’s been a while my friends. I don’t know if anyone is still reading my stuff.  
Is my writing still readable? I’m writing this while slightly feverish so please forgive me if it’s not too good.


	28. Sandor Clegane: Drunk On Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: Love your writing! Look forward to it everyday. It’s become an addiction 😭. If you’re still taking request, maybe prompt 71 (“You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”)? – Sandor or Tormund  
Warning: swearing

Today was not your day. None of the past ones had been. Days came and they went and each and every day, you got up, forced a smile upon your lips and carried on. Whenever you looked into a looking glass, you wished it would shatter into a thousand pieces. You wished you had that power, but alas, you were nothing but a silly little creature.  
Day in, day out, nothing ever changed, nothing, nothing and nothing.  
The only times where you felt that you didn’t have to put on that sharp smile with those fake laugh lines and that pretend you that never reached your eyes was, when you passed the King’s personal guard dog on his patrol.  
He never smiled at you and you knew that he didn’t care about what someone like you was doing and how you were feeling. At first you had gladly returned his favour. He was a brute, a scoundrel and no knight. He was not one of the men that your septa had praised in her songs. Sandor Clegane looked and behaved like the monster of those stories, the creature that took the lady in the first place, the one a knight in silver armour would have to kill to be reunited with his love.  
So, you had wiped that stupid smile that you had plastered across your face off. There was no use pretending. Not around him. He would just mock you again and taunt you.  
“Smiling like it is your wedding day, you ought to be an actress. Make no mistake, you won’t be smiling like that when the day comes”, he had told you and his own smile might as well have ripped your heart into two. As his mocking had continued, you had even stopped giving him a courtesy nod. You didn’t care about him.  
Yet, every night, you lay in bed wishing you had some of Sandor Clegane’s brutishness. Perhaps you wouldn’t be here in the first place, if you were a little more like the Hound.  
It was another one of those nights where you lay on top of your sheets, heat radiating from every inch of your body. And you were thinking of him again.  
Earlier that day, you had had more sips of wine than you were used to. The liquor had rushed to your cheeks, inflaming your body further, and to your brain, numbing your hurt.  
You had heard that some people drank to drown their sorrows alive. Perhaps that’s why the Queen and the Imp were never without a goblet.  
Already swaying a bit from side to side, you made your way down to the kitchens, the moon light guiding your way.  
It was as if the wine called out to you and without hesitating, you found where the cook kept most of it. A wineskin in hand, you slumped down on the small stairways separating kitchen and wine cellar. Every time that sweet liquid of relief passed your lips, you could feel your head begin to cloud. Good. Clear thoughts only brought pain.  
“Shouldn’t you be in your chambers practising that stupid smile of yours. Perhaps, if you pinch the corners of your mouth enough, they will stay up for forever.”  
He had startled you. Your wine had gotten caught in your throat for a second and for just that time you thought that you would actually choke and die from it. Perhaps it would be for the best.  
“Piss off, Clegane. I don’t need your taunting.” You took another swig of the wine. Sweet relief. Sweet numbness.  
“You have been drinking tonight, haven’t you?” There was almost a ghost of worry upon his face.  
“What’s it to you”, you said and rolled your eyes. You wanted him to go away. Not because of his harsh words and ferocity, but soon, the wine would be taking over your body and mouth. And that would do you no good. What if you confessed that you were thinking about him every day, what if you told him that you might be in love with him, what if you went even further than that and flung your arms around him.  
“Nothing”, he said. The conversation died there, but he remained standing at the stairwell. You groaned. He was being annoying.  
“You have two options, you can either piss off and leave me be, or you can sit down and have a drink. I don’t like your staring.”  
He did as he was told and sat down a few steps above you. You could hear him gulp down wine and by the sounds that were reaching your ears, he was spilling most of it onto his shirt and not into his mouth.  
“Why do you hate me? I have never done anything to you”, you asked. It was something that you thought about a lot and now, that the wine had brought courage with it, you were finally bold enough to ask it.  
“I don’t hate you”, he rasped. “I just want to-“  
“What”, you said and turned around to face him. “You want to what? Make me feel awful? Thank you very much Ser, the rest of this town is already doing that and let me tell you, it’s doing a marvellous job at it.”  
“I just want to protect you”, he shouted. He sprung to his feet and gave you a hateful stare. “Smiling won’t do any good, won’t protect you. Anyone can cut that smile out of your face. If you don’t realise that, people worse than me will do worse things to you.”  
“That’s not protecting. You are being mean, and I do not deserve that.” You stood your ground. Against the Hound. Perhaps there was a bit of his brutishness inside of you.  
Even though he looked like he was about to rip you into shreds, you couldn’t help but find him attractive. Your gaze travelled over his face and down to his lips. They were mostly intact except for one corner and again, you wondered what it would be like to kiss him.  
Maybe he had noticed your gaze softening, because his stare lost its sharpness, too. He looked at you, his eyes almost shouting words of apology.  
“I just want to protect you from the world out there”, he repeated and this time, he didn’t shout it but said it with a hint of adoration.  
“Then do it right this time”, you said and boldly took a step towards him. He let himself sink down onto the next stair.  
“I’ll give you a second chance.”  
“I might need more than that.” Your faces were almost touching. He was so close to you, you could feel his breath prickling against your skin.  
“I’ll gladly give them to you”, you whispered, and he caught the last syllable with his lips, holding you close and now, you knew what it felt like to kiss the Hound. You knew what kind of man Sandor Clegane really was. And you wanted more of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know that this isn’t the happiest fic. I just took a study break and flipped through my old report cards from 2007 and one of the things my teacher wrote down was that she wished that I talked to someone about my problems. And that put me in a mood TM. Because it made me think of the shit I went through as a child and I was not ready for that. So here, have some angst while I cry into my phonology flash cards.  
Also, been reading the first two ASoIaF books and I usually write Show!Sandor and I tried to lean more into Book!Sandor… Don’t know if you like it, or if it’s horrible, but it was worth a try.


	29. Jamie Lannister: Hateful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Season 8 Episode 4! Do not read this of you haven’t watched that episode! You have been warned.  
Re-write of THAT Brienne/Jamie Scene  


Something woke you. Something had startled you in your sleep and had forced you out of your dreams. Oh, your wonderful wonderful dreams. How could they have been otherwise? You had fallen asleep in the arms of the man you loved. After years of carrying around an aching heart, staring at him longingly only to blush when he returned the gaze and of yearning to feel his lips against your own-  
How could you have been anything but happy?  
You stirred underneath the warm furs, wanting to roll into Jamie’s chest and snuggle up into the crook oh his necks. You rolled over but-  
You couldn’t feel the heat of his skin against your own. Carefully you let your fingers glide along the soft sheets of the bed. They were slightly warm, but no, no Jamie.  
That ripped you from your dreamy state. You sat up straight in your bed. He was gone. Jamie was gone. Your Jamie had left you. He was gone.  
You swallowed deeply, trying to silence a sob that threatened to rise in your throat. He didn’t love you. Ha had just taken pity upon you. Once upon a time Jamie Lannister had been a man full of arrogance and lacking love. The type of love that was good, pure and that blossomed like a rose after the sun had risen. You had thought that that Jamie was gone. Perhaps you had been mistaken.  
Your bottom lip quivered. You were nothing to him. Nothing at all. As you sat there, your thoughts racing and your heart heavy as stone, your sorrow turned into anger. Damn him. How dare he treat you like this? You were not someone to be toyed with and then to be left in a cold bed! This was it. You were going to search the damned castle and tell him just exactly what you thought of him. He did not get to make you feel little.  
Rage burning through your veins and fire raging your heart, you grabbed your nearest clothes, threw them on carelessly and opened the door to your chamber loudly. You did not care who heard you right now. Let them hear! Let them see! Let them know what an ass Jamie Lannister was and let them know that Y/N L/N was not to be messed with!  
You ran down the corridor, looking behind every corner to see whether he was there.  
“You have no idea what you’ve got coming”, you whispered to yourself.  
Just as you were crossing the courtyard, you saw a shadow lead a horse towards the gates of Winterfell. You were going to pay them no mind but when you saw an all too familiar golden hand shone in the orange glow of a torch, you headed straight for them.  
“Jamie Lannister!” You were shouting and your voice roared in anger. “What in Seven hells!”  
His head flew back in shock. You had managed to catch him off guard.  
“Oh no”, he mumbled.  
“Yes, oh no! If you think you can just ride off into the darkness like a thief in the night, you have seriously underestimated me!”  
“I need to go”, he said softly as if to calm you down.  
It hit you then. He was going to go to be with Cersei.  
“Have you ever run away from a fight?”  
“No”, you said and stomped on the ground, “I am not running away from this one right now but you are.  
You’re not like your sister. You’re not. You’re better than she is you’re a good man and you can’t save her.” With each mention of Cersei you could feel the venom pool in your mouth. That woman. That damned woman. She destroyed lives everywhere she went and she was about to destroy yours as well. Your shared life with Jamie.  
“You don’t need to die with her stay here, stay with me, please, stay!” Your fingers reached up towards his face, taking it and pressing your palms into him firmly. But, he jerked his head back and looked to the ground.  
“You think im a good man? I pushed a boy out a tower window, crippled him for life, for Cersei. I strangled my cousin with my own hands just to get back to Cersei. I would have murdered ever man, woman and child living in Riverrun for Cersei.” It was as if his life just flashed in front of his eyes. He had that certain glimmer in them.  
“She’s hateful”, he spat, “and so am I.” Jamie took a step and urged his horse to move forwards.  
“You think you’re hateful”, you screamed through gritted teeth. “You don’t even know the meaning of the world. Know this: if you leave me right now to die with your bitch sister - after everything we’ve been through, after everything you and me have done - just to die with her in that doomed city, no Gods will be able to save you.” Your eyes stared straight through him. They were narrowed in anger. How dare he!  
“Go! Why don’t you go and die knowing that I will hate you for the rest of my life. And when my time comes and I see you again, I will make your after life miserable. I will hate you with a passion burning so fiercely, you would think I was the Dragon Queen because I will never forgive you for making me feel things I had never dreamed of feeling just to take them away from me and shatter my heart into a thousand pieces”  
Like a hurt dog he looked to the ground. “Are you done?”  
“With you”, you asked, “absolutely.” And like that you left him to guide his horse out into the cold night. You stormed into your chambers, hot tears streaming down your face. Cursed be Jamie Lannister. Cursed be the day you had first lain eyes on him.  
You had slowly drifted into sleep, when you awoke again. Someone was in the room. As quickly as possible you reached for the hidden dagger and held it towards the figure on the opposite site of the bed.  
“Please don’t”, a tired voice said. It was Jamie. He was back. Or had all of this just been a dream?  
A cold and wet hand clasped around yours, lowering the weapon in your hand. No, he had definitely been outside. You put the dagger away and glared at him.  
“I could never live with myself, knowing that the one person that I have truly loved despised me”, he said. “In other words: May I come to bed?”  
A soft smile crept upon your lips. “Always”, you said and drew him under the covers. He was wet and his cold leather armour send shivers through your body, but you didn’t care. Jamie was back.  
“I love you”, he said and placed a kiss upon the crown of your hair.  
“And I love you.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I really liked Jamie’s character and was unsatisfied with the way that scene ended. Never thought I’d be writing a Jamie fic on my own accord but here we are!


	30. Jon Snow: What Will Never Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous Requested: Jon Snow x reader angst pLEASE 🤧 there’s no angst. I’ll take anything. Unreunited love/death/anything  
Warnings: mentions of death, mighty angst  


You were too late. He was gone. He was dead.  
You had stormed in through the gates of Castle Black, your cloak stiff from the icy winds of the edge of the world. It had been the middle of the night and just as you had been about to round up the corner and search for Jon in the chambers of the Lord Commander, you had noticed something deep black lying amongst the snow. Your curiosity had gotten the best of you and you had approached the dark shape among the white.  
Something drew you towards it. At the same time, your head was screaming for you to turn around. This was none of your business after all. You had barely escaped Winterfell with a message for Jon Snow. All you were supposed to do was your duty.  
You had offered to go, volunteered to risk death by trying to escape, but you had to escape. Life was miserable with the Bolton bastard ruling over those ancient halls. And you had missed Jon. Friends since childhood, you had been so angry at him for taking the black as it meant you would never get to be together, never get to hold each other and never see each other again. You hadn’t told him back then, and perhaps you should have. You had loved him. You still did. Every time he was banned from the feasts, you would steal a warm plate of food and go find him. He would place his cloak around you and you couldn’t help but imagine him doing so in front of a septon. No, you had never told him that you had loved him since the first day you had met him. Black curls and soft smile, eyes that melted your heart and a heart of gold. Jon. Your boots had crushed the snow underneath your weight and you had felt your heart beating so rapidly against your rib cage, it had threatened to break your sternum in two. The light had been too dim, so you had to step a little closer. There had been a man lying in front of you, you had realised. A soft gasp had escaped your lips. Then, the flicker of a torch had crossed his face and from deep within you had let lose a blood-curdling scream.

“No”, you had screamed at the top of your lungs. “Jon!” You had kept repeating his name until Ser Davos had come running down the stairs. A few others of what you had assumed to be Jon’s friends had come with him. You could only assume who he was but judging by the lack of his fingers and his accent you were sure it had been the Onion Knight.  
You had already sunken onto your knees by then. You had wanted to cry like all lovers did, but no tear wanted to leave your body. Perhaps it had been for the horrors you had to endure under Ramsey’s reign, but it had been more likely for the fact that this was not right. They had lifted him away from the scene and Ser Davos had put a hand on your shoulder. You had flinched at the contact but had kept staring at the dark puddles on the ground. Jon’s blood was turning the snow dark. 

“We need to go”, Ser Davos had said in a hushed voice.  
“What does it matter”, you had said monotonously, “now that he is gone, what does it matter if his murderers find me and kill me.”  
“He would not want it.”  
“You don’t know me”, you had said, your gaze still fixed to the spot where he had been just a few seconds ago.  
“He would not want it”, the older man had repeated.  
You had drawn in some air. “At least I would be with him.” You had turned around to face him and finally, the tears had started to form in your eyes. Somehow, he had still dragged you into the room with the others. Jon was on the table. At least his body was. Your Jon was gone.  
Now, in a room full of strange men, your cheeks were wet. Your fingers were intertwined with his black hair. How many times had you admired him? And how many times had you not told him that you loved him? You should have made him stay with you. You should have said something, you should have.  
All those thoughts of what could have been but would never be, were drowning you alive. You could feel your lungs close up and you had to grip the table in front of you tightly as to not pass out form the lack of air. It was as if he had taken it with him into death. The air that you breathed was no longer shared with Jon and it was killing you, ripping you apart from inside and threatened to end you within seconds. 

Another sob rippled through your body. One of your tears made its way onto Jon’s cheek. You tried wiping them away with the sleeve of your coat, but you just ended up smearing it across your face. Somehow, you had hoped that nobody had noticed you and if they did that hey had the decency to leave you be, but you almost felt their stares burning through your back.  
“Child, what’s your name?” You supposed that was aimed at you. There was no reason to call the others in the room that name. When you didn’t reply but instead focused on Jon’s features, the curve of his lips, the smoothness of his skin that was slowly turning into stone and his hairline where black curls sprung free, the Onion Knight repeated his question.  
You gave in, telling the men your name, having to repeat it again and again as your sobs suffocated the words in your throat.  
“He mentioned you”, someone from the back of the room said. “He said that a long time ago, he would have asked for your hand in marriage. Didn’t say why he never asked but he was always so glum about being a bastard. Perhaps he wanted to give you to someone with a name and land to him.” That did it. You thought you had felt pain before. But to know that he had loved you and you had loved him. And that there could have been a future for the both of you together in a small cottage, warming your feet by the fire and curling your body into his, that was too much.  
“Sounds like him”, you said and those were the last words you could speak before you had to hold onto his dead body to not lose your conscience from the pain and the tears and the pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Dear anon, if you wanted angst, you have come to the right place. I love writing angst so much!!!! I feel like my Jon fics are the worst of my writing, so I hope that this is readable. Hope you like it. So, this is the non-Sandor fic of today! I have almost as much Jon in my inbox as Sandor!!Also, been getting fewer notes but that’s ok! I’m glad for every reader that I have. SO, thank you for reading this!


	31. Sansa Stark: Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another specific fxf request! Here we go!  


You had been searching for Sansa all morning. You had checked with everyone. The kennel master, Maester, smith, Jon, Arya and even Bran. Nobody had seen her all day. When you had awoken in the early morning hours, her side of the bed had already been cold.  
Where was she? Where was your betrothed? She couldn’t have simply disappeared into thin air!  
Sansa didn’t show her lovely face at lunch either and you were starting to get concerned.  
“That’s it”, you said to yourself.  
You looked over to Jon and he thankfully seemed to get the feeling that you wanted to have a word with him.  
“I still haven’t found her”, you said, half annoyed but mostly afraid. You loved her so much and now that she was nowhere to be found, you got scared. “The Lady of Winterfell is missing and I’m going to organise a search party.”  
“As Lord of Winterfell, I give you permission.” You looked at him confused.  
“Jon, I don’t need you approval to search for my betrothed. I just wanted to tell you. Nothing is holding me back from looking for my one true love. She is all I have!”  
“Sansa is right, you know”, he said. “You would make an excellent Lady of Winterfell, hells, you two would be unstoppable.” You smiled a very small smile but headed off right away. In all truth, you weren’t too concerned that she had left you, no, you knew that she loved you.  
Every night before you both went to sleep, she would play with your beautiful Y/H/C hair, draw you closer and bury her head in the crook of your neck.  
No, you loved Sansa and she loved you. There was no doubt, but you were worried that she had gotten hurt. It didn’t even have to be bandits. She could have simply slipped and fallen, broken her leg and could now be stuck on a cold road somewhere, hurt and alone.  
You were about to rally some men, when you saw a hint of red. It wasn’t Sansa, it was just some gown a young girl wore, but the colour made you think. Red, the colour of her hair, the colour of her cheeks and lips and the colour of the tree in the Godswood.  
She might have gone there. No, she didn’t look like her father, she took after her mother with her fair hair, Tully-blue eyes and gentle features. Still, she behaved like her father in some ways. Sansa had once told you that she didn’t pray anymore and you believed her to this day, but she went to the ancient place of prayer to think, just like Ned Stark had.  
You picked up the skirts of your dress and almost ran to the Godswood. You prayed that she would be there, sitting underneath the grand tree, lost in thought and unharmed.  
Your instincts had been right. There she was. You smiled to yourself again and approached her with steps as light as a feather. She was obviously lost in thought and you would never want to startle her.  
Slowly, you bent down and then sat down next to her. At first, she didn’t even acknowledge your presence, but then, you felt her cold but soft hands slip into yours. She squeezed your hand lightly. You brought your joint hands up to your mouth, and let your lips touch the back of her hand.  
Sansa leaned over to you and like she did in bed, let her head rest on your shoulder. There were no words needed. You already knew. It was her way of saying “Stay with me for a while”.  
And so you did. You stayed with her until nightfall and then headed to supper together, hand in hand.  



	32. Sansa Stark: Jonquil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Set during S08E06 (so full spoiler-y), angst  
Anon requested: hi, can i request a sansa x fem!reader with 55 (“I’m not going anywhere.”) & 72 (“You need sleep.”) from the prompt list please?  


You had barely made it through the gates of Winterfell when you saw Sansa shift on the horse in front of you. Her shoulders relaxed and then slumped. It was as if her body had been held up by invisible strings that someone had cut lose just now. At first you were surprised and even grateful that Sansa hadn’t felt like she needed to keep up appearances in her own home, but the way her body shivered, sent fear into your heart.  
You dismounted your horse quickly, handing the reins to the nearest stable boy and ran for her. She was already making her way to your shared quarters, ignoring everyone around her. Brienne had decided to stay in the capitol and you hated her a bit for it. Sansa had always had Brienne, had taken her in and Brienne had promised to protect your Queen in the North. Yet, she had failed that vow. You were all Sansa had, you realised. No Arya, no Bran, no Jon, no Brienne. None of the people that mattered to her and that were still among the living, had chosen to remain at Winterfell. None of them.  
How heavy that had to weigh on her. A Stark alone in the North. A lone wolf abandoned by her pack. You rushed to her side, trying to hold her up, trying to keep her steady. Not for the sake of the people in the courtyard, but for her own sake. You loved Sansa more fiercely than a wolf loved its cubs and with more fire than her the colour of her hair held.  
Almost carrying her to your chambers, you planted a kiss on her ivory cheek. A single crystal tear escaped her eyes just in time for the kiss to melt it.  
Inside your chambers, she fell onto the bed. You didn’t know what to say or to do. So, you helped her remove her heavy boots and the leather corset she so proudly wore. You turned around to fold them over a chair, but she held you by the wrist.  
“Don’t go”, she said, her grip tightening, “not you too.” A sad smile spread across your lips and you let the garments drop to the floor right where you stood.  
“Never.” Your own hand soft clasped around the hand holding you by the wrist.  
“They all left”, she said. “All of them. Winterfell was their home and all of them abandoned the North, abandoned me.” Her voice began to crack, and you couldn’t bare to hear it. The sound of her voice breaking, the feel of her hot tears upon your skin and the redness of her eyes, were things you never ever wanted to see again. She had been through so much and she deserved happiness.  
“I’m not going anywhere.” You sat down next to her on the bed and caressed her cheeks, wiping away the tears of her pain. “I will never leave you.”  
For a while, you just sat there and held her close to your own heart. You slowly rocked forwards and backwards, humming a song. You hadn’t realised it, but you drifted from one song to another and found yourself singing the tale of Florian and Jonquil. Her hitching breath slowed down and fell into a steady rhythm. She clawed at your dress and looked at you from underneath her eyelashes, those big Tully-blue eyes searching your soul.  
“Will you be my Florian”, she whispered.  
You laughed sweetly. “A fool knight? No, I think you can do better than that.” Her brows furrowed and suddenly she wasn’t your sweet Sansa anymore but the Queen in the North.  
“That is not what I meant. I don’t want a fool knight. I want you as my Florian.”  
“A Jonquil and another Jonquil. Not quite what people would call a heroic tale of love”, you whispered.  
“I am the Queen in the North”, she said with a determination you had not heard before, “And whom I chose to love and marry is up to me.”  
She was tired and sad and lonely. She was not being herself. In the morning she would regret saying these things. Love yes, that had been more or less easy, but marriage? Sure, you wanted to, but she was a Queen. And you were no match for her.  
“You need sleep”, you said and tried tucking her into the soft furs of your bed.  
“No”, she said, her lip forming that adorable pout that melted your heart quicker than wildfire, “I know exactly what I am saying. “I am asking you to marry me. You said you would never leave me.” You hesitated for a moment, needing to wrap your head around this situation and what it would mean for your future, a future you would share with her.  
“Don’t leave me”, she repeated and there was a certain desperation in her eyes.  
You breathed in slowly. “I will marry you”, you finally said, “But on one condition.”  
“Anything.”  
“You need to go to sleep now”, you smiled. In return, she lightly punched you in the shoulder, but obliged and pulled you down into the bed with her, her soft lips upon yours.  
“I love you”, she said, before sleep did finally claim her.

<

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p>A/N: I really hope you like it. Not quite sure that I captured Sansa as a character, but I hope you like it nonetheless.  
I used to hate Sansa but I think that was my own internalised misogyny. Now, whenever I watch GoT, I am holding team Sansa flags. I love her so much and I hate that she got completely isolated from everybody at the end. I know that that is literally book!Sansa’s worst nightmare. Anyways…


	33. Obara Sand: Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
I hope you like it! This is my first time writing exclusive fxf, so I hope you could do Obara and this character justice. This was a request unlike so many of my I-should-be-studying-so-instead-I’ll-write-a-fic-one shots

You saw her practicing from the gallery. She moved faster than a rattle snake and the way she swung her spear was just as deadly.  
You smiled to yourself. She was intoxicating. You felt yourself drawn to her and to your embarrassment, you sighed to yourself.  
She was so close to you physically, but she was untouchable. Sure, you were Yara Greyjoy’s younger sister, the true heir to her throne -every sane person would chose you over Theon - but you weren’t quite a princess, yet.  
Sometimes, at night, you dreamt of Obara and her beautiful face close to yours.  
You shook you head. Love was not what you had come here for. Yara had sent you as an emissary. You were supposed to form an allegiance or at least get Dorne on your side.  
“I can see you stare”, Obara said from below with that beautiful accent of hers. You hadn’t noticed that she had stopped her training. She was smiling at you devilishly.  
“Well, I am only trying to compare the fighting techniques of Dorne with those of the Iron Islands”, you said and tried to sound as confident as possible.  
She set her spear aside and vanished behind a column. Pity, you liked looking at her.  
You didn’t know what to do now, that she was gone so you started to walk away. Your official meeting with Ellaria Sand wasn’t until tomorrow. Perhaps you would get a wine skin from the kitchen, drink yourself to sleep and just hope for the best. It sounded like a good plan to you.  
A warm hand landed on your shoulder and traveled up to the nape of your neck. “I like your staring, it gives me a reason to train harder”, Obara whispered into your ear.  
You turned around. Her grip on you wasn’t too strong. “And why would that be”, you asked innocently.  
She narrowed her eyes and drew you a bit closer. Your lips were almost touching now and you could feel her hot breath sent shivers down your spine.  
“I always try to impress beautiful women.” For a moment, you closed your eyes as you felt that she was going to kiss you, but you never felt her lips on yours. Instead, you no longer felt her breathing down on you. You opened your eyes and saw, that she had taken a few steps back.  
You had been a dumb fool, believing that she would come to you that easily. No, with her, it seemed like you had to take matters into your own hands. You were a Greyjoy for fucks sake!  
So, in an unforeseen move, you caught her off guard and held her close while letting your lips brush against hers. You are afraid she was going to pull back, push you away and tell Ellaria that she should never have let you into Sunspear, but she only deepened the kiss.  
She was the one who pulled back after a while. You both needed air.  
“It seems like making alliances will be easier than I thought”, you said, laughing.  
“Oh no”, Obara said and let her hands travel down her own body very slowly, “You have to work for this.”  
“And you have to fight for this”, you said and smirked.  



	34. Tyene Sand: Daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fxf specific request

“Good shot, Y/N!” Obara raised her eyebrows before continuing “But not perfect.”  
She shot her arrow at the target. It was fleeting, only a slight wobble to it and- she was mistaken.  
“You were saying?” Your arrow still stuck proudly right in the centre of the bullseye. Perhaps she had hoped to split your arrow in half as pay back. Some slight bruises still remained on her face after the duel you’ve had yesterday. Nothing serious. You were like sisters to each other. All the Sand Snakes were. All except one.  
Years ago, when Prince Oberyn had collected you off the streets and introduced you to the Sand Snakes, they had hated you at first. Then, they had learned of your talents as a fighter. You would never back down, you were swift, but your fists and blades were even faster. There hadn’t been a day where you hadn’t felt sore from fighting and training all day ever since.  
You huffed a small laugh and left the training ground for a nearby tent.  
Ellaria and the other Sand Snakes were hiding from the burning sun there. As you entered you could feel Obara passing you.  
“We’ll train again”, she said. “And this time I’ll beat you.”  
“I would like to see you try”, you said with every bit of arrogance due. Obara fought like a princess, a warrior princess, but still. There were times where dirty street fighting beat her.  
You let yourself fall into a cushion near Tyene. Her skin was glowing. She had probably been fighting with her sisters before. Sometimes you would watch her. Not like the guards who watched the handmaidens. No, you looked at her, at her face, her muscles moving as she pulled punches. Many times she had begged you to train with her. You had always refused. You wouldn’t want to mess up her face.  
“You’re quite the fighter”, Ellaria said and threw a wine skin at you. You were going to grab it, but Nymeria took it first. A quick jab in the ribs, and she let it fall again.  
“Bitch”, she said and scowled at you.  
You really needed something to drink right now. Your throat was burning. When was the last time you had poured some liquid down your throat?  
You took a deep sip and then put the wine skin at your feet.  
A slender hand reached for it and you were ready to tear Nymeria’s head off, but your face lightened up as you saw Tyene cheekily smile at you. You could feel the corners of your mouth raise without you telling them to do so.  
She took a swig of it and winked at you. Then, quick as lightning, she rose to her feet and demanded a re-match with her sisters. They groaned as they got up again and you couldn’t help but smile. You would do anything for her. Tyene. She was your soft spot. Obara had her left flank. And you had your Tyene. Not yours tough. No, she wasn’t.  
Perhaps you had stared at her for too long. You hadn’t noticed Ellaria crouch down at your side.  
“Ever since Oberyn picked you from the streets, I have considered you as a daughter. Perhaps”, she said and a small smile crept upon her lips, “you will become a daughter to me in a way I have not considered yet. You are in Dorne, after all. No need to hide your love.”  
“I-”, you wanted to say something to her. Anything. Was she encouraging you to go after Tyene?  
“Get up, Y/N, you can longingly stare at my sister once I kick you in the dust”, Obara said and left the tent.  
There you sat, dumbfounded at how this day was turning out. Had you been that obvious? Was everyone aware of it? Maybe even Tyene? Your Tyene?  
You would tell her. You would.


	35. Tormund Giantsbane: Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Spoilers for S08E02, swearing  
Anon requested: Hello lovely!! Can I request the prompt “You make me feel safe” with Tormund? I am in love with your writing, you are amazing, just keep going, never give up!! 💕💖💕  


The black of the night swallowed the castle walls of Winterfell whole. The dead were coming, Tormund had said so and you trusted him with your life. The dead were coming. You didn’t wat your life to end here, now, when you had spent most of your life feeling unhappy. With him, you felt as if nothing in the world could hurt you. He was gruff at times when he needed to be, could beat any man in combat and could roar with the strength of a thousand mountains. But then, he always made sure to make you smile, told you jokes, and the corners of your mouth hurt from staying up all day. He was everything you needed and the army full of dead men walking was threatening to take that away from you.  
The courtyard was cold and lonely, still, you wouldn’t give up the search for him. If this was your last night in this wretched place called Westeros, you wanted to see him one last time so that you had something to live for in the next live, someone to search for. You needed a good memory before you died and only Tormund could give you that. Perhaps he loved you like you loved him, though that was impossible. No other creature had loved someone like you loved him. Your love for him burned brighter than the fire of his hair and you hoped, prayed that this flaming love didn’t have to die because of some corpses once dawn would break.  
The sound of snow against the leather of your boots followed you as you walked and walked, your eyes always searching for flaming hair and your ears always perked for the sound of his booming laughter. There was nothing like it. Nothing as good and sincere as that sound of pure joy rumbling through his chest. Sometimes he would hold you close to him when laughter erupted from within him and it would spread through your own body like wildfire. You cherished those memories now. There was no telling in if you were ever going to feel the carefree joy that came in being with Tormund ever again.  
You felt tears biting at the rim of your waterline, when something swooped you off your feet.  
“There you are”, you heard him laugh, “I’ve been looking for you all over.” Tormund released you from his grip again and sat you down in front of him, turning you around to face him. He held you close and kissed you fiercely, the fire of his kiss warming your face.  
When he released you from the kiss and pulled back to look at you, the muscles of his face softened from a grin into a sincere heartfelt smile.  
“What is it”, he asked, “Are you scared of the blue-eyed-fuckers?”  
You tried to smile at his joke. “I’m not scared of you”, you said.  
“Better not”, he laughed, “Because I couldn’t do this then.” He gathered you in his arms and carried you over to the nearest wall. He pushed you against it but made sure that he wasn’t squishing you underneath his weight. He was a giant after all. He kissed you again and again, trying to drown your fear in kisses and trying to make you forget, but it was no use. An icy tear rolled down your cheek and met Tormund’s face.  
“I am scared”, you said when he pulled his face away from yours, “Are you scared?”  
“Not when I’m with you”, he said and flashed his teeth. “You make me feel safe.” You laughed through your blurry vision. “I mean it. You do things to me, make me feel things and I forget the rest of the world.” He gently caressed the bottom of your chin where most of the tears had gathered. “What can I be scared of, if my entire world is just you?”  
In an attempt to turn this around, to turn all the crying and fear into a happy memory, you tried to make him laugh again, to feel the fire of his joy burn through you.  
“You could be scared of how much you love me”, you said.  
“Aye”, he laughed, “I probably should be.” Your arms flung around his neck again and you held his body so close to his, you were melting into one body, the flame of your love being the forge.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you like it! I thought that giving the reader the prompt would be so obvious and that’s why I switched it around.  
I’m on a sprint wheeeee! I either write nothing at all or everything at once! Am I afraid that the quality of my fics is declining? Absolutely! Am I also afraid of having no inspiration left and not writing for another week? Absolutely! So, enjoy fics that are not that good, but have a fic anyways instead of none at all!  
Also this lady sitting next to me at the coffee shop keeps trying to read what I’m writing, so now, I zoomed out of the document while writing and the words are astronomically small.  
i really should take christian lindner’s advice and apply it to writing fics. “lieber nicht (regieren) schreiben als schlecht (regieren) schreiben” (shout out if you know who the hell that is)


	36. Tormund Giantsbane: Come With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: swearing  
Anon-Request: Tormund x reader fic? Reader goes north with him and the rest of the Free folk and is nervous of how different the things will be  


The cold air was biting at your skin. Maybe this had been a horrible idea, but you had seen Tormund and his fiery hair and that had been that. When he had told you that he couldn’t stay in Winterfell any longer, that he needed to go home, north, the real North, someone might have as well ripped out your heart from inside your ribcage and cut it into pieces.  
You had begged him not to go, sunken onto your knees and cried. For hours you had pleaded him not to leave you, not to go. But tears and cries had not changed his mind. Of course, he had held you close, kissed each tear away, but he still wanted to go north.  
You had told him that you couldn’t live without him, not after he had shown you what life was really all about. Crying, you had told him that without him, you wouldn’t be able to survive.  
“Come with me then”, he had said, wiping away another tear and smiling his devilish grin. Oh, that smile, that impossible smile. What would you do without it.  
Never, not once, had you considered not living in Westeros. Technically, you were still going to live in Westeros, but you had never even dreamed about going beyond the wall, let alone falling in love with a man of the Free Folk. Actually, someone resembling a leader of the Free Folk.  
Once the tears had stopped flowing and the sad mist clouding your head had cleared up, you had realised that this was a stupid idea. You knew nothing of what your life out there would be like. You had never not enjoyed the comfort of a warm home and those furs looked way too heavy. You knew nothing of hunting or survival in the cold, yet, here you were, trotting north alongside the idiot who had made you do this. He was your big little idiot and you were his. What fool would follow another person to the end of the world because of something as silly as love?  
While making camp with the rest of the group, you could feel their eyes gleaming at you. For a good amount of time now, you were trying to make a fire but there wasn’t even so much as a spark. They knew you were rubbish at this. You knew it, too. The only person who still looked at you like you were the moon and the stars themselves, like you were the embodiment of perfection, was Tormund.  
He sat there with his face in his hands, sometimes sighing deeply and never breaking eye-contact with you.  
You tried again, you hoped for anything, even just the slightest spark. And. Nothing. Not even a little bit. From across the camp site, you could hear a few Free Folk sneering, blowing the air out of their nostrils and imitating your poor work.  
You were not made for this. This was not your home, you should have stayed back in Winterfell. No, no, no. And there it was again. The spiral of thoughts that pulled you down and under. You were nothing. Useless. You could feel your eyes well up with tears.  
Suddenly, there were big arms wrapped around you from behind. They rocked you back and forth and a voice whispered sweet nothings into your ears.  
“It’s alright. No tears over a stupid fire.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck and just like the first time, it didn’t fail to send shivers down your spine. “It’s alright.”  
A few of the others laughed and it ripped you right out of your safe place that was Tormund’s embrace. “Your little Southerner knows nothing. Doesn’t belong here. Doesn’t know how to make a fire. You’ll both die like that, nothing to warm you.” It earned him a few approving roars.  
“Oh”, Tormund said, and you could feel his smile broadening, “there are other means to keep warm.” Ever Tormund, trying to defuse a situation with some of his dirty humour.  
When the rest of them were asleep, Tormund lay down next to you and pulled you into his side.  
“I’m scared”, you finally whispered. “Maybe this was a bad, bad decision.”  
“Don’t worry. I’ll teach you everything I know, and I will never let any harm come to you.”  
“What about the others?” The way they had laughed at you still haunted your soul. They would never see you as one of them. You would always be a little Southerner to them.  
“Fuck the others.” You smiled at that. Your first honest smile in a while. You shifted in your position and turned around so that your lips could meet his. Yes, Tormund would always make sure you were safe.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have never written for Tormund before, so, I hope this is alright.  
Also, like I said, I do write all my requests, I just write them when I feel like it, so I sometimes do more recent requests because I feel like doing them.  
I know that this fic is on the shorter side, but I just didn’t know how to elongate  
Also also: Hey, didn’t write a Sandor fic! I do write for other characters


	37. Robert Baratheon: Not the Usual Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request: Would you do a chapter about Robert and his bastard daughter?Fatherly interaction. It can be their first meeting and he can like her more than Joffrey i don’t like him😂  


The sun was quick to rise this particular morning, but you were quicker. A friend had gotten you a position in the Red Keep after your mother had died. The money was good, and you were glad to be off the streets.  
You made your bed perfectly, smoothing out any wrinkles in the linen. Yesterday, you had been moved into the servants’ quarters. A real bed, you had slept in a real bed for the first time in ages.  
Everything seemed so exciting. You cleaned floors, helped prepare breakfast and then were sent off to the King’s chambers.  
“The girl who usually goes is sick. Don’t be stupid, don’t talk to him, don’t talk to the Queen, don’t talk to any girl you see in there and do no under any circumstances speak about what you see in there”, the head housekeeper said, pressing a silver tray in your hands. “I’ll find out if you do, and there’ll be hell to pay. They could have you hanged for it. Now, leave, his Grace will be awake by now.” You were pushed out into the corridors, tray in hand. Metal was scratching against metal. Your hands were shaking ever so slightly. It was your first day and you were already going to enter the King’s chambers. This was fine.  
You had remembered the description of where to go, which staircase to take and when tot turn left. And just like that you were standing in front of the heavily decorated doors. A few guards were posted outside. One of them had hair as golden as the sun and he carried himself in the most elegant way. Yet, there was also something arrogant about him. The way he looked down at you made you drop your gaze immediately.  
“You’re not the usual girl”, he noted.  
Were you allowed to speak to the Kingsguard? The head housekeeper had said nothing about that. But as they were guarding the king, you thought it best to cooperate. “No, Ser”, you whispered, “they have sent me as she is ill.”  
“What do you have there?”  
“Just some eggs, fruits and bread, Ser.” You were mindful to address him with his correct title. The stories of what guards did to disrespectful servants haunted your thoughts. You didn’t want to end up like one of those girls.  
The knight shifted slightly in his armour and then lazily said, “I guess it does not matter which street rat brings his Grace his breakfast.” He nodded at the guard next to him and they let you pass through.  
As you slipped into the room, you remembered what you had been told. Keep your gaze low, don’t speak, do your work quickly and then return. Your eyes were glued to the floor in order to avoid seeing anything. Gods, you were scared. It was as if one glance towards the bed would kill you instantly. And it probably could.  
You placed the tray onto the big table in the middle. However, your fingers had shaken too much, and it had collided against the wood with a loud noise. Sheets ruffled, and a grunting noise erupted from the bed. You froze in shock. You had awoken the King. As if in pain, you shut your eyes tight, trying to pretend that you hadn’t just done that.  
“You’re not the usual girl”, King Robert said and let out a yawn.  
It hadn’t sounded threatening, but you felt the need to explain your mistake. “I am sorry for waking you, your Grace. Please forgive my mistake, your Grace.” You were still not looking at him. Oh gods, you had just spoken to him. This would get you killed. Maybe, you could beg them for mercy and let them take just one hand.  
“Forgive me, your Grace, for speaking, I should not have done that.”  
He laughed deeply. “And you did so just again. Don’t stress, child. Bring me my breakfast.”  
You picked up the try again, paying more attention to your surroundings this time. Even as you handed it over to him, you did not look up. You had already broken one rule. You were not going to push your luck today. “What is your name?”  
“Y/N, your Grace.”  
“I knew someone called like that a long time ago. You remind me of her a bit.”  
“I was named after my mother, your Grace.” Your head dipped even lower, trying to show respect. You had never been taught the art of a perfect courtesy and you wouldn’t want to offend him by doing a bad job of it. He was the King after all.  
King Robert dug into his eggs and just as you heard the fork scratch against his plate, he hesitated. “How old are you?”  
You told him, not forgetting to address him properly. He coughed at that and for a moment you were concerned that he was going to choke. If the King died on your watch, they would definitely mount your head on a spike, but luckily, he caught himself again.  
“Look at me”, he breathed. It was demanding, the way he said it, but in a way, he sounded desperate.  
Ever so slowly, you pried your eyes of the floor and let you head come to a normal position. Where was he going with this?  
“My, you’re the spitting image of her.”  
“I’m sorry, your Grace, but I am afraid I cannot follow you.”  
“You look exactly like your mother. Except for the hair. Hers was lighter. You have me to thank for that dark colour.”  
Then, you realised what he was talking about. You were a bastard. Y/N Waters. A bastard from the Crownlands. You had never known your father, but before your mother had died, she had sent you off to Kingslanding to go find him, so that he may take care of you. When your mother’s friend had gotten you a position within the Red Keep, you had thought it nice of her to look out for you, but she had actually done more than that. She had sent you to your father. King Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.  
Your eyes widened in shock. A hand grasped yours and the motioned you to sit on the bed.  
“You look a bit pale. I suppose it comes as a shock.” He tried to make you more comfortable and he tried to explain the situation a bit better. “What happened to your mother?”  
“She died”, you said, “but beforehand, she told me to come to the capital and look for my father, you, your Grace.”  
“Enough with the your-Graces. You shouldn’t address your father like that.”  
“Yes, your Grace”, you said, still in total shock.  
As you sat with him for hours, he told you all about how he had met your mother and about his life as King and you told him about your life, what you had seen and what you were interested in.  
He laughed at your anecdotes and somehow his bear-like laughter calmed you. It was as if your body knew that this was your family.  
“You know”, he said, a certain sadness overcoming him, “I wish my Joffrey was like you. There is something rotten within him. And I thin that one day, when he is King, it is going to cause a lot of trouble.”  
“There’s good in everyone.”  
King Robert shook his head violently. “Not in everyone.”  
The room turned cold and then you remembered, you were actually supposed to be working right now.  
“I have to leave”, you said and not for the first time today did your heart race.  
“I agree. But you need to go far away. I will send you to Storm’s End. You’ll be safe there. I never knew all of my children, but I do know this, the capital is going to kill a good girl like you. That, or my wife will.”  
You smiled at him sadly. What a miserable life he had to have. Sure, he was better off than anyone, but he was a sight for sorry eyes. Nobody to love him, and nobody he loved around him.  
“Thank you”, you said, almost returning to your courtesy of addressing him as the King, “father."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: SO, like I said: not a Sandor fic! I hope you like it!


	38. Cersei Lannister: Last Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon: Would you do one about Cersei Lannister x triplet Lannister Reader?  
Warnings: incest (I do not condone incest irl at all. This is just a fic and is absolutely no encouragement whatsoever)  
Spoilers for season 8  


You looked out the window as the sky was coming down, crashing and burning and for the first time you felt truly powerless. There was nothing you could do, nothing you could say that would save you now. House Lannister, once proud and invincible, would die today.  
How many times had you heard the Rains of Castamere? How many times had you sung it and how many times had your sister used it to threaten your enemies?  
But you couldn’t beat them this time.  
This time, it would be the last one.  
“Will you stop pacing”, you whispered. If the screaming of the smallfolk wasn’t enough, her heels hitting the red stone were driving you mad. It was as if each time she took another step, your house, your life, took another step towards death.  
You looked up at her and to your surprise, you weren’t the only one with tears in your eyes. Biting the insides of your cheeks as not to cry, because at least one of you had to hold your act together, you stood from where you had been sitting. Gently, you pulled your sister into an embrace.  
Usually, your bodies were warm against each other, but that was not the case this time.  
“I am here with you”, you whispered against her forehead and kissed it softly. “We will survive this”, you lied, “remember all these horrible things we have been through? All those people who have tried to tear us apart, they never succeeded in the end.”  
You laughed. “Remember when you were going to travel here alone, and Jamie and I did everything we could to be with you? Father was furious. But we did it anyway.”  
“Father is dead. If Tyrion hadn’t murdered him, we wouldn’t even be in this situation.”  
“Maybe”, you said and began to gently rock her back and forth. Soon, you were dancing.  
The world was burning, and horror was spreading through the world, but you were dancing. Not the drunken type after you and she had had a few too many goblets of wine. Not the ecstatic and relieved kind after a battle was won. Not the kind that stirred hearts. Not the type that whore performed to appeal to customers.  
You were dancing your last dance. The world was ending. You wanted to feel her touch against you one last time, wanted to see her golden hair shimmer in the sun one last time. You wanted her to stop crying, make her smile and make her forget what the world had done to her, but there was no time for that. Not today. Never again.  
So, you danced your sorrows away, slowly and surely. Something deep inside you compelled you to hum your house’s song.  
A great song praising the greatness of a great song.  
You spun her around and caught her again. Your Cersei. This was how you would remember her, how you wanted the world to see her. Soon, you would both leave this life, but you hoped that wherever it was that you were headed, she would be there with you.  
The Red Keep shook again, and you knew that your time was coming to an end. Still, you would not let her last moments be sad ones. Instead, you kept on dancing to the Rains of Castamere as if there was not a single worry on your mind.  
When the keep shook again, you pulled her close, needing to feel her heart against your skin.  
“I am scared”, she said.  
“I know.” Brick were crumbling away, and you knew that it was time. “Me too.”  
“I love you”, she said, and you kissed her deeply, only breaking it once. “I promise that I’ll find you”, you whispered before finding her cold lips again.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I mean this goes without saying but I do not condone incest in real life. Maybe this is why this isn’t as romantic and more angsty and short, but if you have read anything that I’ve written, you would know that I love writing angst more than fluff.  
Also, feel very free to send me feedback if you requested something (anon or not my box is open). You don’t know how much feedback, comments, reblogs etc. Mean to a fanfic writer. They can make somebody’s day and if you want to continue reading fics, make sure to show support.  
Fanfic is free and by taking ten seconds out of your day, you can make sure that you get new content. Not getting notes sends the writer the message that nobody reads their stuff and that nobody likes it. so, why should they continue writing?


	39. Podrick Payne: Peach Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon: can you please write anything w podrick? Pleaseee id love to read a fluff w him just anything  


The bells of the Citadel announced that is was midday now. You didn’t need them to tell you that. The sun stood higher than ever and it was burning wounds into your flesh.  
Someday you would leave Kingslanding and leave its heat behind, leave the narrow streets that smelled worse than the sewers and leave all the bad things behind. Someday you would leave. Nothing was holding you here, but there was nothing out there for you either. Not without the necessary gold at least. A child of the gutters, that’s what you had heard some highborn lord call you once. That might be true but at least in death you would be equals.  
Sometimes you looked up to the Red Keep and wondered if their lives were really that much better than yours. Most of the time however, you looked up to those towers of red stones and waited for the sun to reach its highest position.  
One thing was holding you back. A squire with dark hair and gentle eyes. someone, who loved you for who you were and who only wanted the best for you.  
“Your Highness”, a voice said beside you. A golden peach was blocking your view, but you knew the hand that was holding it better than anything in the world. They were soft hands, loving hands that never failed to make the butterflies in your stomach soar high.  
“Podrick!” Your face immediately light up.  
“Fresh out of the kitchens”, he said and placed the peach into your hands.  
“You shouldn’t have”, you said but whispered a thank you anyway.  
His cheeks had the slightest touch of pink when you looked into your eyes. “Anything for you.” He held out his arm for you to take and you gladly took it.  
What made you love him even more was that besides the dirt underneath your fingernails, besides the mud on your clothes and besides the fact that you were a child of the gutter, he always treated you like you lived in that castle on the hill.  
You left Fleabottom and headed for the docks. At least the air was fresher here and it would be easier to breathe deeply.  
He chatted away, told you how his day had been and encouraged you to tell him about yours. Even though yours was the same routine day by day, he always seemed interested and you saw it in his face that his interest was genuine. He wasn’t one of those men who pretended to listen but had their head somewhere else.  
You were still holding the peach in your hand. It was a kind gesture of him to bring you food that you would never be able to afford. It also made you sad. He lived that life of glitter and gold and your life was nothing but a dull brown. Yet, when you looked at his brown hair, gold couldn’t look more elegant.  
Podrick looked to the sky and you knew that it was time for him to go.  
“Lord Tyrion will be done with his meetings now. I ought to go back.” He smiled sadly.  
“Thank you”, you whispered, ”for the peach.”  
“One day, I’ll plant you a tree full of them, far away from here. I’ll build you a cottage.” It was a lovely thought. Just you and Podrick. Podrick and you. Nothing else besides that tree. But you knew that it could never be. He was a squire, which meant that he wanted to become a knight and knights cannot marry.  
“What about being a knight? Don’t make promises you can’t keep”, you said, “not to me.” To this day, he had kept every promise that he had made. That was another thing you loved about him. While the capital was full of lies and shattered dreams, he tried to prove the opposite to you, that there was some good left here.  
“I would never.” His voice sounded almost upset.  
“I know that”, you whispered and gently caressed his hand. “But you are a squire. You dont have any money for a life like that and I do not either. What about becoming a knight?”  
He considered for a moment and then smiled back at you. “I am sure that Lord Tyrion would lend me some money.”  
“I know, I know.” He was still not answering your question. “What about being a knight”, you repeated.  
“I don’t want to be a knight if that means I can’t be with you.” He looked back to the Red Keep that stood proudly over the city.  
“I have to go”, he said and hurried away, but before he did, you pressed a soft kiss against his cheek and when your lips caught the corner of his mouth, you could feel the heat rushing to it.  
“Some day”, you whispered to your self. Some day he would take you away from here, not a knight in shining armour, but his gentle self. Podrick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is my first time writing for Podrick, so, I hope that I did alright.  
He is the opposite of Sandor in many ways so this was fun.


	40. Jorah Mormont: Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous: May I request for Jorah Mormont the prompt "I can't imagine this world without you"? Very angsty? Maybe set before or during the Battle of Winterfell? Thank you very much!

The night was dark, but the fear boiling through the core of the castle was burning hot and brightly. You walked through the darkness, searching for him. He had to be somewhere near the soldiers. He was a commander after all, and the night before a battle, he could and would not abandon those duties.   
It was tearing your heart apart, string by string, but you understood. It was important, more important than you. This was life and death, and death was likely to win. This might be the last night where the living roamed the castle. The last night for the realms of men and the first and only one for the dead. They were approaching fast, or so you had heard.   
Where was he? Where in this doomed castle of doomed men was he? It was the last night, and you did not want to be alone, you did not want to lose him to a doomed battle without saying goodbye. Although, farewell was more fitting. He was a skilled soldier, but he fancied himself to be a hero, and heroes rarely survived battles. That was why they were heroes. You assumed that he wanted to prove himself to his Queen, the country that exiled him, and to you.   
From the walls of the castle, and through the flicker of the flames, you could see him standing with his ancestral forces, the men of the islands he no longer ruled. A figure was standing next to him, a sword in hand, but quivering at the weight of it.   
You rushed down the icy stairs and towards your lover, and by the time that you reached him, he was alone again.   
“I looked for you”, you said and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I wanted to wish you good fortune and a skilled hand in battle.”  
“Luck will not win this fight. Not this time.”  
“I know that”, you said, “But it can help.” He smiled softly at that and nodded in agreement.   
You wanted to have something, a memory perhaps, but you could not bring herself to kiss him goodbye in front of his men and the rest of the castle. You supposed that the castle had to be filled with moments of goodbye and last times. Perhaps, if they were lucky, there would be some first times, too. The imminent threat of death and dead men marching on the castle brought some more courage than wine.   
Softly, you reached for his sleeve and pulled him into a dark corner, the ancient stones providing some shelter from hungry eyes and the whipping cold.   
“You’ll be safe in the crypts”, he said, leaning into your body and letting his fingers intertwine with yours.   
“I want you to be safe too”  
“I have to fight, for the Queen, for the future, for you”, he said proudly.   
“I know, I know”, you said and planted a soft kiss on his lips. You were trying to memorize the pattern of his lips, where they rose, where they fell, where the chipped skin was tingling your lips, and what it felt like to kiss him.   
“I can’t imagine this world without you”, you said and broke the kiss. There were tears prickling against the corner of your eyes, but you did not want to set them free. You did not want him to remember you that way during battle and perhaps in the afterlife.  
And you did not want to blur your memory of him even further by blurring and drowning your vision with tears.   
“I wish we had forever, but I am grateful for the time we had.”  
“We were rather good together, weren’t we”, you said and dabbed away the tears that threatened to spill out of your eyes.   
Jorah reached down to your face, and gently took it in his hands.   
“Remember me, will you”, he said and kissed you deeply. It was as if he was memorising the patterns of you and the taste of your kisses and love now.   
“Forever.”


	41. Sandor Clegane - When Tears Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon: 48 (“Why are you crying?”) and 52 (“I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”) with Sandor?? Please, I love your writing  
Warning: Set during Season 8 Episode 4, heavy drinking

You were sat next to him. The feast had started hours ago, and it didn’t seem like the men’s thirst and hunger would be stilled soon. Surviving the unthinkable and living through the night had heightened their spirits, but you feared that they would not feel their best once they came down from that high.   
Sandor had been awfully quiet. You supposed after years of guarding festivities like these, watching from the shadows and keeping to himself, he wasn’t used to celebrating. He almost didn’t raise his glass, but when they called to celebrate and raise a drink to the Lady Arya, he obliged.   
You had laughed along at the jokes of the redheaded wildling, had laughed as he encouraged the King in the North to get so utterly drunk, he would empty the contains of his stomach. Sandor had filled his glass and yours all through the night, until you had to put your hand on top of his and shake your head.   
“I can’t anymore.” You shook your head again and giggled. You were not used to drinking so much. Not as much as Sandor at least. “No more. I can’t hold my drink well as you.”  
He shrugged and pulled the jug away, filling his glass. Your eyes didn’t break away from his, until the liquor poured over the brim of the silver cup, and drenched the table. He didn’t seem to notice, but looked soflty into your eyes, and you wondered what he was thinking.   
You gazed on and got lost in thought as time slowed. Even the blinking movement of your eyes slowed down, and your eyes travelled down his face, over the bumps of his nose, down unto his lips.   
All these years of knowing him, you had never dared to put a toe out of line and act on your feelings. The last moments before the battle against the Night King and his army, you had thought about it. This might have been your last night after all, the last night together, the last night alive, and the last night in the realm of men. And then, you had been afraid that if you did tell him your true feelings, if you did kiss him and he rejected you, you would spend your last hours crying, and he would not have a clear head during battle. For the betterment of the both of you, you had kept quiet.   
But now was different. You were alive, he was alive, and you kept on gazing, the jug soon empty, and the alcohol pouring onto the floor.   
Suddenly, he shook his head and turned his entire body away from you, grunting some insults to himself.  
“What is wrong”, you asked and placed a soft hand on his leather jerkin.   
“Why are you staring at an old dog with an ugly mug like mine. Find yourself some squire to stare at.” You tugged at his shoulder, trying to make him look into your eyes, but he would not turn his body around. He was ashamed of himself, you realised. He was ashamed and it was not right.   
“You are not a dog. The Hound is dead. He is gone. I only see Sandor Clegane, a warrior. And you are not ugly. You think scars make you ugly? It is the soul”, you said and reached for him again, slowly twisting his body around to face you. “It is the soul that decides over beauty,” repeated.   
“And I know your soul. I know you. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. And that is why I stare at you.”  
In the flicker of the candles and torches, you saw something leave his eyes, and then his cheek was wet. You could see it glistening against the dim light. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but he was always honest. That was his main principle. He was truly touched.   
“Here”, you said, and put your hand flat against his cheek, caressing the tears away with your hand. You kept your hand there and scooted closer to him. He put his much bigger hand around yours and made it linger there. The rest of the hall was forgotten. There was only him and you, you and him.   
Ever so slowly, you leaned forward and met his lips with yours. He seemed surprised at first, but soon, he kissed you back. His rough lips prickling against your softer ones. He was the one who deepened the kiss, the one who asked for more, and you gladly gave it to him. You pulled away, when you felt your cheeks slick and wet. At first, you thought that you had cried at the beauty and the relief of the kiss, you had waited for it for a long time after all.   
But your eyes were dry. It was his that were filled with even more tears than before. A small smile upon your lips, you leaned into him again, kissing away each tear, until none were left.   
“Why are you crying”, you asked.   
“I never thought I would get to do this”, he mumbled and looked to the floor.   
“Oh, we’ll get to do this a lot more in the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Also, remember how in the books, Sandor cries more than anyone?   
This is probably not the fic you all wanted, but I wrote it anyway.   
I am really not feeling my Nano project at the moment, so, here I am. I am on schedule, but I wanted a bit of a head start in case I lose interest/the will to live half-way through. Well, it’s day 4 and here we are. Kill me honestly. I’ve got 7.000 words to my name, a fully plotted story, all my characters and yet, I don’t want to write.


End file.
